


Freddy Takes Manchester

by Shorknado



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, As in first time kissing eachother, Bad Pick-Up Lines, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, Crushes, Dark Past, David takes quens adhd pills basically, Drug Abuse, Exorcisms, First Kiss, First Meetings, Flirting, Geographical Inaccuracies, I dont care about britan ok, M/M, Mutual Pining, No entity, Past Sexual Abuse, Past Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-02-04 14:55:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18606811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shorknado/pseuds/Shorknado
Summary: How long does it take to heal after you kill your demons?A life time?Quentin has spent two years trying to get better. Just when he thinks he's making real progress, when he's finally healing. That demon comes back.It's not just him its after, no. It wouldn't be fun if it was just him.





	1. Remember Me?

**Author's Note:**

> Krueger...aww man
> 
> We back in the dream got our pickaxe swinging side to side side side to side

It had been two years. Two years since Krueger came and fucked up his entire fucking life. He still couldn't sleep for more than a few hours each night.

He glared at his dad across the table, sipping his coffee angrily. Was it stupid to still be upset at his dad for moving him to a new country due to his guilt at killing Krueger and getting his son hurt? Yeah. It was, but Quentin decided he was going to be pissed for the rest of his life for being taken away from Nancy. The only other person that could understand what he- they went through.

"Are you busy today?" His dad asks lightly. As if he was about to set off a landmine, "I figured we could go...sightseeing."

"I'm booked."

His dad looks at his plate of eggs and nods sadly. Good. He watches him finish his breakfast in cold silence. After placing the plate in the sink his dad stops at the door, turning to give him a sad look.

"I love you."

Quentin looks down at his black drink, "Love you too."

The door closes, and he drains the cup. He didn't have anything to do. He was five hours ahead of Nancy back in Ohio, and he didn't want to attempt another sad stilted conversation on the phone. He misses how easily they got along, before his dad decided to drag him to fucking Manchester in an attempt to get away from his past.

He rinses the cup off in the sink and debates what to do. Hiding away in his room like every other day was tempting, but the thought of falling asleep was pushing him outside. He grabs his bag at the door and leaves the flat. He figured he could wonder the streets for the day since it wasn't raining for once.

He locks the door to the flat and makes his way downstairs and into the street. Ambling down his usual path through the city back alleys. Despite the two years in the city he never really bothered learning any streets or going to any tourist traps. Whenever he got lost or got the 'get home' text he would pull up google maps and trudge back. He had to admit it was more interesting than small town Ohio, but the solitude wasn't the best trade off. It isn't long until he wanders into a familiar park, Cotton or something. He walks along the pathways until he sees an empty bench. Perfect to rest his feet for a bit.

He finds himself jerking awake at the sudden feeling of falling and looks around in slight panic. He checks his watch with a yawn, realizing he had fallen asleep on a public bench for two hours. Thankfully no one had stolen anything from him during his impromptu nap. Quentin rubs his eyes and stands up, listening to the sound of his joints pop as he stretches.

You know what sounded great right now? Noon coffee at the seediest bar he could find.

He wasn't trying to get himself hurt, but usually people didn't bother him and the food was much cheaper. If not pretty gross. He shoves his hands in his pocket and starts heading towards where he knows shitty bars like to squat and collect trash. Especially fun at five in the afternoon.

Twenty minutes of walking streets he pauses at the mouth of a back alley. He can hear the sound of two people really going at it. Yelling and screaming insults that are so accented and slurred he can't make out the words. Conveniently a terrible bar was right next to it. Perfect.

Quentin flashes his passport to the bouncer, and the guy raises his eyebrows before letting him in. The interior didn't look any different from most bars. Hardwood, kinda homey. Cleaner than expected. Five other people where situated around the room watching sports on the screen. No one was talking. Good. He looks at the bar and takes a seat next to a half empty glass of murky beer, someone probably gone off to spend the rest of the day like a human.

"What can I get ya?" The bartender asks, smiling at him. He was missing most of his teeth.

"Coffee. And uh, fries. Quentin replies, running his fingers over the scratched wood of the bartop.

"Comin right up."

The man bustles away, and the front door bursts open loudly and obnoxiously. Quentin stares at his hands and the grains in the wood.

"Piece of shit tryin' to mess with me don't know what I fucken do for fun bashed his bloody head in." The man slurs and laughs. There's a few chuckles from the patrons but most seem to ignore him.

The seat next to Quentin is pulled out, and he realizes too late that he should have sat somewhere else. The man sits and takes a drink of his brew, Quentin can feel the man's eyes on him. He shifts ever so slightly away and tries to make himself smaller. The bartender sets a mug of coffee down in front of him, along with a basket of fries.

"Here's your chips." The man emphasis chips in that obnoxious way some people do. Quentin rolls his eyes and looks up.

"Thanks." He mumbles before taking a drink of coffee. He knows the man is still watching him, and dutifully looks anywhere but to his left.

"Mate, you look like shit." The man says suddenly, he sounded sad too. As if he was telling him grave and unheard of news.

Quentin snorts, and lets out a low laugh. Finally turning his head to get a good look at the rude bastard next to him. The man was very large and well built. His face was a bit red from where he had presumably been punched a few minutes ago. He had a crooked nose and crooked eyebrow scar to match the mischievous glint in his eye. Bad news.

"I know." Quentin responds evenly. The guy was probably looking for another fight, which he wasn't going to give him.

The man tilts his head, examining Quentin with a similar curiosity, "You look even worse when I can see your face. Ain't never slept in your life, huh?"

His accent was laughably stereotypical. Quentin shrugs and sits up a bit, taking another sip of coffee, "I don't really need it."

The man is silent for a moment, still watching his curiously, "Can I get you a drink?"

"I don't drink."

He laughs at that, looking pointedly at the bar, "What're doin' at a pub then?"

Quentin lifts up a sad looking fry, wondering if he could get food poisoning from a fried vegetables, "I guess saying the food isn't a good excuse?"

The man lets out a boisterous laugh at that, "Ya hear that Willy? You're loosin' all your patrons with your shit food!"

The bartender, Willy, flips him off, "I lose more customers to your temper than to food, King."

Quentin eats a few fries. They were bland and disappointing, but it was food.

"See, he ain't complain'" Willy says before shuffling off to do bartender things.

King snorts and looks back to him with a smile, leaning his elbow on the table and eyeing him with interest.

"So, where ya from?" King asks.

"America."

King rolls his eyes, "Yeah I fucken' figured. I mean what state."

"Ohio."

King frowns, obviously wracking his foreign little brain for anything he could remember about the United States.

"That near...New York?" He finally says.

Quentin is used to this small talk, it's pretty funny to see people become disappointed he isn't from some big city or the west cost.

"Sure, a few states away." Quentin replies, "You from here?"

"Born and raised! How long are you visiting?"

Quentin can't stop a sad sigh from escaping him, "I live here."

"Maken' it seem like this city did ya one dirty. How long you even been here?" King shoots back, sounding a little offended at Quentin's tone.

"Two years. Citys not bad I just..." He stops himself, not wanting to spill his life story to a near stranger, "Bad circumstances. You don't wanna hear it."

King nudges his arm, spilling a little of Quentin's coffee on his hand, "See that's why ya need to drink mate. Spill all them beans you keepin' locked up for no reason. You'll feel better!"

He rolls his eyes, not eager to get any liquor in his body. Him not drinking was probably the only thing that kept him from getting date raped.

"Say, what's your name?"

"Quentin, you?"

"David. Listen' I'm not one to offer bein' a tour guide but if you want me to ever...y'know show ya some good dives I could."

He finishes off his drink and sets it aside, thinking about David's proposition. It's not like he had anything better to do.

"If I have time...and you have time I wouldn't mind-"

"It's a date then! When are ya free?"

Quentin shrugs, "Pretty much all the time."

"Same here, we can meet up in a day or two if ya want. Oh here let me give you my number."

Quentin inputs David's number into his phone, putting him under pub guy. The only other numbers he has left are Nancy and his dad, not that he can text her without costing a fortune. He notices that his dad had sent him a be home soon text.

"I gotta get going." Quentin says, digging a ten out of his pocket and setting it on the table, "I'll see you...soon. It was nice meeting you."

"Yeah same to you." David responds as Quentin gets up and heads to the door.

"And get some sleep, love. It won't kill ya."

Quentin shakes his head, waving a hand in goodbye before letting the pub door close behind him. The sun was streaked orange and he started to backtrack as best he could home. It takes him longer than usual to find the familiar building, by now the sky was pitch black. No stars out in the city of course, something he missed about Springwood. There weren't a lot of stars, but they were there.

His dad jerked awake when he opened the door, having fallen asleep on the couch waiting for him.

"Hey son, you have fun?" He asks hopefully.

"Yeah." Quentin walks past him to his room, shutting the door softly. He kicks off his shoes and sits at his desk, avoiding the bed. He pulls his phone out in an effort to prolong his time awake.

Pub guy: hope you got home safe. Citys not crime filled but lots of bad folks around.

He smiles and types back a response.

Q: says the guy that got into a back alley brawl. But im home, hope you didn't follow me

Quentin waits for a response, leaning back in his chair. He closes his eyes for a moment, and yawns heavily. He could risk an hour of sleep, a text from David would surely wake him.

Pub guy: wow real nice of you to accuse a guy you just met of stalking, don't flatter yourself. Next time just invite me over ;)

Quentin can barely keep his eyes open long enough to read the text before his eyes slide shut and the world goes black.

\--

He wakes up with a start, sitting up in his chair and breathing heavily. His bones pop and groan from the prolonged position leaning back in the chair as his eyes adjust to the yellow light trickling in through the window. Quentin looks at his phone; eight in the morning. He slides his texting app open and types out a reply to David.

Q: sorry fell asleep. Are you busy today we could meet up?

He sends the text and plugs his phone in. Deciding to take a shower while waiting for a response, David was probably asleep anyway. He grabs a change of clothes and makes his way to the bathroom, trying to avoid the mirror. He knows damn well he looks like shit no need for a reminder. He starts the water and undresses, getting in the shower and letting the cool water drive away the last of the drowsiness in his body.

Idly Quentin runs a hand down the scars on his chest. The doctors had stitched up the cuts and stab wounds on his shoulder, and reassured him they wouldn't scar.

They were wrong.

The marks in his chest were wide as they had been when they were a bleeding gaping wound, and stark white. Just like the lock of hair behind his left ear had gone white after his encounter with the dream demon. As far as he knew Nancy's scars were much the same.

He shudders and finishes washing himself quickly. Not wanting to dwell on the past more than he already did. He dries off and redresses in clean clothing, stopping by the kitchen in his way back to his room for a slice of toast. When he gets back his phone was already blinking with a text, causing his stomach to twist in excitement.

Pub guy: yea im free where do you want to meet up?

Q: is cotton park near you?

Pub guy: anywheres near enough if i get to see you ;)

Quentin rolls his eyes, but gets up. Covering his wet hair with a hat and grabbing his wallet and keys. He sends a quick message letting David know he was on his way and almost makes it to the door before his dad walks in from the balcony.

"Where you off to?" He asks curiously as he sips his coffee.

"Uhh.." Quentin flounders for a moment before deciding to be honest, "See a friend."

The way his dads face lights up makes him feel like shit. He really had been wasting away inside the apartment hadn't he?

"Oh go have fun then! Be safe!" His dad warns and makes a shooing motion with his hand. Quentin obliges and quickly runs out the door.

 


	2. Wake up!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quentin is 19 and david is 22, just to let yall know

To say he was doing better was an understatement. For the first time in years Quentin felt like he was honest to god thriving. He had David to thank for that development.

It had been about a month since he met David at the shitty bar, and since then they had meet up almost every single day. It helped that Quentin had no job, and was unable to easily  _ get _ a job without a work permit. David had been rather cagey about his job too, if he had one. Although the man practically hemorrhage money when he wasn't beating up strangers in the street. He wasn't going to question it though.

Speaking off, Quentin can make out the form of his friend making a ruckus near their usual meeting bench. He quickens his pace, hoping to stop whatever asinine fight David was so desperate to start in the first place.

"David!"

The man turns, warm smile breaking out on his face. He performs a rude gesture at the man he was yelling at before trotting over to meet Quentin.

"Took your bloody time gettin' here." David comments obviously not annoyed but pretending to be.

"I was busy."

"With what? You're booming social life?" David laughs at his own joke, falling in step beside Quentin. God he was such an asshole.

"Yeah I was stopped by some tourists asking directions. Real social."

David snorts at that, "You can barely find your way to the nearest train."

"I know. Told her to keep walking then turn right." Quentin sighs in resignation, "I think you've made me into an asshole."

"Don't blame me for accepting yourself."

Quentin shakes his head, and elbows David's side. An action that would get anyone else a punch to the face, "So where are you taking me?"

This was their little ritual. Meet up at or near Cotton Park and David would take him to a place of interest. Usual some shitty bar where David would get tipsy then start a fight with some poor bar goer that got to close. Most of the managers and regulars at the joint knew David and were very nice to the poor American being dragged along.

"Ah figured you were tired of pubs so we're goin' to a place you would like. We're going to play tourist."

Quentin raises his eyebrows, "No bar today?"

"Pub."

"Bar."

"Pub."

"Bar."

David lets out a slow breath, obviously doing his best to hold his temper in check.

"Pub." David growls, in an attempt to end the conversation. Quentin remains silent just long enough for David to relax.

"Bar."

"Fuck you! Bastard American idiot how many times do I have to fucken' tell you a pub is not a bar!"

Quentin laughs at David's angry outburst. He knew anyone else would be getting punched to the ground for being such an obnoxious little shit, and that just made him laugh harder.

"God you're fuckin' lucky." David growls letting the conversation drop. He takes a few deep breaths, "We're going to a library."

Quentin perks up, he had been to a few libraries around the area when he was still hell bent on researching dreams. He hadn't read anything on the subject in a while, his dad requested he stop. It was apparently bad for his health.

"Really?" The question comes out with more enthusiasm than he meant it to. He feels a bit embarrassed about freaking out over a library.

"Yeah, Chethams. I didn't make an appointment to read so we can only do a tour but you like that stuff don't you?"

Quentin nods, absolutely sure that he would be taking a trip back to dig through old books on dreams and demons, "Sure man. Sounds like a fun date."

The statement slips out without thought, and Quentin regrets it immediately. He glances over to David to see if he had any reaction, but the mans face was his inscrutable. Yeah ok Quentin maybe developed a bit of a crush on David in the few weeks they had been...seeing each other. At least this crush actually showed up when they planned on hanging out.

Not to mention he was pretty sure David taking him to three separate gay bars was some sort of signal.

"There it is." David interrupts Quentin's homosexual musings and points to a old looking building surrounded by a gate and a small crowd of people around it. The building was really old looking, but in good shape.

"Don't get into a fight with the other tourist." Quentin warns as they near the onslaught of khaki shorts.

"No promises."

\--

The tour of the library was blissfully uneventful. David had a few close calls and snarky comments about bad questions some dad asked, but thankfully no fistfights.

"It's four in the afternoon, about time to get sloshed." David muses as they walk through unfamiliar streets. Quentin, nods absently making a note in his phone to call the library for an appointment to do some research. Walking around the quiet old building was giving him a strange nostalgia for researching useless information.

"Hey, you in there Quen? Spacin' out on me already?" David's voice cuts into his thoughts as he tucks his phone away.

"Yeah I'm here, where you getting drunk at this time."

David hums thoughtfully and looks around, obviously figuring out the best bar to stop by from where they are. David's knowledge of the city was impressive, but then again the guy had lived here his whole life.

"Oh I know a good spot. Can't stay long, got a thing to do later." David says and then grabs Quentin's hand and drags him down a shady back alley. He ignores the way his heart speeds up.

"A thing?'

"Yeah."

Quentin sighs, David was always so hush hush about his current personal life. He knew the guy came from a rich family and used to play whatever asinine sport these people liked but his "things" were an enigma to him. He wasn't going to push it yet, but maybe one day he would pressure him to tell him. David drags him into the pub that looked suspiciously like every other shitty bar he had been dragged into. It wasn't until they sat at the bar that David releases his hand, and orders their usual drinks.

Quentin looks at his hands, feeling a familiar bubbling in his stomach. It was the same feeling he got when with Nancy, and it was hitting him harder than ever. Probably because David seemed to actually want to hang out with him and not just tolerate him. He glances at David to see that the man was already looking his way.

"What?" Quentin asks, the question coming out snappier than he intended.

David's lips quirk up into a mocking smirk. The sight annoyed Quentin as much as it enamors him.

"Nothin'." David coos in a disgustingly mocking tone that makes his blood boil.

"What? Is something on my face?" Quentin snaps for real now. The bartender sets a beer in front of David and a coffee mug on the bar before shaking his head at David.

David snorts and looks away, purposely taking a long drink his beer. Quentin debates dumping his coffee on David's lap or hand. As funny the man's shocked face would have been that was a one way ticket to getting his nose broken. He liked to tease the guy but he wasn't going to let himself get beat up by his crush. Instead he rolls his eyes and takes a sip of his drink, letting David win this round as he enjoys the warmth of his caffeine. Quentin leans an elbow on the table, resting his head on his hand and letting his eyes drift across the room to the tv's covering local news. His thoughts drift to David, and ways he could try asking him on a date-date and not strange hang out not dates.

"So, what's on your mind?" David asks after letting his petty victory soak in.

"You." The answer comes out before Quentin can stop it. He hopes it comes out as a smooth pickup line and not an embarrassing slip of the tongue. He keeps his eyes glued ahead, and absolutely not at David.

David doesn't respond. He's silent long enough for an awkwardness to settle in between them. Quentin risks a glance at David only to see a disgustingly smug self satisfied grin on his face. It makes his heart race, and his breath catch in his throat.

"Really now?" David speaks only when their eyes meet. His voice was low and carried a hint of...something more under his usual bravado.

Quentin nods slowly, and turns away from David, looking down at his mug. He clears his throat and tries to recover a little bit of his dignity.

"Don't flatter yourself. I was wondering how mad you would be if I dumped my drink on you."

David laughs at this, and the tension dissipates almost immediately. Quentin lets out a small breath of relief.

"I've busted peoples noses in for less," David nudges Quentin's knee with his own, causing him to look back at that annoying face, "But I'd let you off with a warning."

Quentin feels a blush rise to his cheeks, and sips his coffee, "What? you'll only give me a black eye and not a broken nose." He teases, nudging David's knee back.

David laughs and leans in closer, their shoulders brush and he feels a shiver run through his body.

"You wanna try it?" David threatens playfully, "I'll show you a good time."

Quentin grips the mug, glancing over at David and quickly away. He feels his stomach churn in excitement and nervously bites his lip. David usually isn't so...forward. Hell, he's never been hit on so directly in his life. He can't say he doesn't like it though. Especially how nice David sounded when he whispered.

"Your idea of a good time is a bare knuckled brawl in a back alley." Quentin deflects, unable to come up with an equally flirty response.

"What's so bad about that?"

Before Quentin can respond David's phone starts ringing in his pocket. David pulls away and looks at his phone, frowning slightly at the interruption.

"Shit I have to take this." David apologizes and gets up from his stool, answering the call in a hushed whisper as he makes his way towards the bathroom.

Quentin watches him go curiously. He had never seen the guy look so annoyed at a call. Hopefully it wasn't anything bad. Quentin finishes the last of his coffee before checking the time. It was nearing six, his dad would want him home soon. And he was starting to feel tired enough to sleep.

"Hate to cut in run, but I got some business to do."

Quentin jumps at David's voice and turns to face him. He looked downright annoyed but thankfully not at him.

"It's late anyway..." Quentin replies as David sets down a fiver for their drinks. He slips off the stool and follows him out into the street.

"You're flats that way, take a left at Elm street." David says before Quentin can even pull his phone out or ask.

"What, not walking me home?"

David sighs sadly and shakes his head, "Not tonight. Don't get mugged while I'm not around."

Quentin rolls his eyes and begins walking down the street, "I could say the same to you. Be safe."

"Sleep tight!" David yells, and presumably takes off in the opposite direction.

The walk was uneventful. Darkness had encroached quickly, and the streetlights lit up one by one. If anyone was going to jump him, now was the perfect time. Instead he turns left and enters his apartment complex. He unlocks the door and is greeted with the sight of his dad at the kitchen table, papers splayed over the surface. He looks up and smiles.

"Back on your own, eh?"

Quentin smiles and kicks his shoes off at the door, "Yeah, something came up with David."

His father's eyes follow him as he digs around in the fridge for some leftover macaroni. Fine dining as far as he was concerned.

"Am I ever going to meet this David?" Dad jokes as he turns his head back to his papers.

"I dunno, are you?" Quentin shovels cold noodles in his mouth, finishing off the tupperware and placing it in the sink. His dad just laughs and shakes his head.

"Night." Quentin calls as he passes the kitchen towards his bedroom. He debates changing into pajamas but decides to sleep in his clothes. It took six months until he was comfortable enough to sleep with his shoes off. 

He plugs his phone in and lays back in bed, staring at the ceiling. Immediately his thoughts rush to David and his flirting. At least he hopes it was flirting. He's pretty damn sure those touches and low whispers were flirting. He smiles and rolls over, he should send David a goodnight text or something. Usually they didn't do that but...maybe things were...starting to change? He closes his eyes for a moment, just to rest them. They always seemed to burn, and feel heavier and heavier each day. He was sleeping more than ever but the feeling never seemed to fade.

Quentin opens his eyes, above him is a grey sky of swirling fog. He lays still for a time, collecting his thoughts before sitting up to find himself in the middle of a street. Leaves fall around him slowly. They brush against the ground and drift away. He could feel no breeze.

The leaves were gray, like ash. Quentin stands and walks forward. There was nowhere else to go but forward, he knew behind him was void. He couldn't hear his own footsteps. He couldn't hear anything.

He walks for what feels like hours. Stopping only when the road ahead stops being lit by streetlights, and looking to the left. The dilapidated ruins of the Bedham Preschool gaze back. The leaves around him turn into ashes as they drift out from the school. As if it were burning. But there was no fire.

He walks closer, out of the street and onto the sidewalk. He steps on the cool grass of the school yard and immediately the scars on his chest started to sting, then they burn. A hot knife of pain slicing down the old wounds and cutting into his bones, into his soul.

Then he hears it. The sound. That fucking sound. Like an iron beetle rubbing its wings together. The screech of sharp rusted metal against metal. Dread, pain, fear and misery verbalize. Quentin turns around, and his blood runs cold.

David was standing behind him, alone in the middle of the street. He looked dazed, staring at the swirling ashes around him.

Behind David, standing on the opposite side of the street, was a monster. A shadow against the glow of a street light, blades glittering at its right side. A nightmare. His personal nightmare.

"Quentin?" David's voice is soft, and concerned. It floats across the street like a lifeline. David takes a single step forward.

His eyes snap open, and all Quentin sees is his ceiling.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh sisters!


	3. Pharmacy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *David king voice* wots all dis den

David's eyes snap open, and he lets out an involuntary gasp. His ceiling looms overhead, and his phone screams in his ear. With a groan he sits up and glares at the phone, seeing Quentin's ID made him feel a little less angry at being woken.

"What?" He grumbles, pressing the phone to his ear as he rubs his eyes.

"David? Are you awake?" Quentin's voice was shaking with fear so primal it made all the anger drain from David's mind.

"Yeah...you woke me up you fucking cunt." David holds back a yawn, "I was havin' the weirdest dream actually."

He can hear Quentin rustling around on the line. His breathing heavy and frightened, "What was it?"

David frowns, the fragments of dream already drifting away, "Uhh I was...in a street I guess. Not a place I've ever been. Oh get this, I think you were there?"

There's dead silence on the line until Quentin makes a noise that sounds like a sob, "W-where are you right now?"

"At home?"

"Give me your address."

David recites his address without thinking. Quentin sounded on the verge of tears, hell the man was practically sobbing. David is so confused and drowsy he doesn't even know how to ask what's wrong.

"I'll be there in fifteen minutes. Do not fall asleep." Quentin warns, then hangs up before David can get a word in.

He looks at his phone and sighs, setting it aside. Well, whatever it was he could talk face to face with Quentin about it. He hoped they guy wasn't mugged or anything. David gets to his feet and moves to his living room, sitting heavily on the couch. Worry was heavy on his mind but so was the fog of sleep. He had just finished a particularly rough job and his ribs were sore from that guys punches, he was looking forward to sleeping them off.

David leans back and sighs, his eyes drifting shut. Just for a minute really, it would be fine.

A thundering knocking sounds from his door, causing David to jerk and almost fall off the couch. There's a pause before the banging starts again.

"Fucking hell." David growls, yanking the door open, ready to beat the shit out of whoever was standing on the other side, only to see Quentin.

The anger immediately drains from him at the sight of the guy. He was soaking wet, and looked like he had been sobbing only moments before. Water steadily off his red and green flannel onto the floor, Quentin crosses his arms and shivers pitifully.

"You look like shit, mate." David says, stepping back to let Quentin in. The other sniffles and steps inside. David barely gets the door closed before Quentin lunges forward and embraces him, nearly knocking him to the floor.

Quentin buries his face in David's neck and wraps his arms around him. Quentin was ice cold, and shaking like a leaf. He didn't expect the sudden embrace, and it takes a few seconds to return the gesture and wrap his arms around his soaking shoulders. Quentin's wet curls brush against his chin as he pulls the man close.

"Hey, hey it's ok." David whispers, running a soothing hand over Quentin's back, "What happened?"

Quentin shudders and pulls him closer, subtly shaking his head.

David nods, "You don't gotta tell me then."

They stand there for a while, David was happy to hold Quentin for as long as the other wanted. Even if he was getting wet and cold. It felt as if Quentin was literally sucking the warmth out of his body. He shivers, grateful that he only bothered to change into sweatpants and hadn't slept without a shirt.

As he stands, rubbing Quentin's back he's struck with an odd realization. Something felt...wrong. Quentin was almost too cold and too still, like a corpse or something. David was about to pull away until Quentin slowly runs his hands down David's back. The feeling makes his skin crawl.

Quentin's cold fingers stop at the hem of his shirt for only a moment before he shoves his freezing hands under the fabric. Quentin practically racks his nails across David's back and sides, before running his right hand up his chest. David lets out a grunt of pain and tries to pull away, but Quentin's other hand digs firmly into his lower back, holding him in place with surprising strength.

He wasn't completely against the fondling of course, but he didn't expect Quentin to make the first move at a time like this. And for him to be so fucking rough. It felt like Quentin was trying to rip his damn heart out. The icy fingers flex and he feels the sharp nails cut into his chest, and warm blood run down from the cold fingers.

"Quentin what the fuck are you doing?" David snaps. He grabs the man's shoulders and tries to push him away. He only manages to move Quentin's head off his chest.

Quentin stares at the floor a moment before lifting his head, letting David get a good look at his face for the first time. Something was  _ wrong _ with him. The hand at his chest feels wrong, it feels colder than before. Like it was made of steel, not flesh. Quentin smiles, and David realizes why he looks so different.

His eyes were green. Green and filled with a type of evil that shook him to his very core.

Quentin's eyes were grey.

A thundering knocking sounds from his door, causing David to jerk and almost fall off the couch. There's a pause before the banging starts again.

"Fucking hell." David groans and gets to his feet, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he stumbles to the door.

He feels a stabbing pain in his chest as he reaches out and twists the knob. He ignores the sensation and let's the door swing open. Unsurprisingly Quentin was standing there.

"Ain't it raining?" David asks, frowning at Quentin's disheveled but dry clothing. He could have sworn he was wearing a different hoodie. Or was it a flannel?

"What? No it's not raining. Can I come in?" Quentin sounds less scared than when he was on the phone. His cheeks are red, and slick with sweat; he was panting softly. David steps aside and Quentin enters his flat again. Making a beeline to the end table and tossing his back pack onto it.

David closes the door, an odd feeling of déjá vu washing over him. Something felt...different about this situation. But he couldn't pinpoint just  _ what _ was wrong. He turns around to see Quentin dropping a large binder with papers poking out on the table along with a worn journal. The guy looked on the verge of a mental break down from how hard his hands were shaking. The sight tugged on David's heartstrings. He walks over to the table, placing a tentative hand on Quentin's shoulder. The man stills and he could feel his body heat through the jacket. Warm and alive.

"Uh, are you...ok? Do you want to sit down? Need somethin' to drink?" David offers.

Quentin lets out a slow breath and shakes his head. Setting the books down and turning to David. For the first time he notices a large dark stain on the front of Quentin's black shirt. It glistened under the lights, as if wet.

"No, no I'm fine. I need you to sit down because..." Quentin trails off as David reaches forward and touches the discolored fabric. It was sticky and warm, his fingers came away covered in blood. David looks at Quentin who was staring at his bloody fingers in mild surprise.

"Huh..." Is all Quentin says at the sight.

"Sit down." David orders. Quentin immediately drops onto the couch. Color quickly draining from his face at the sight of the blood, and just how much of it there was. David walks past him to the kitchen where his robust first aid kit was already sitting open from earlier. He takes it, a bowl of water, and dish towel back to Quentin.

"Take your shirt off." He says as he kneels in front of the others haggard form.

"Sorry." Quentin mumbles as he strips off his hoodie before gingerly tugging the stained shirt off, carefully keeping it away from his chest. He notices a small silver cross necklace hanging from Quentin's neck for the first time. Then looks down at the wounds.

David stares in horror at the cuts on Quentin's chest. Four bleeding gashes mar his skin, along with four stab wounds along his shoulder. The cuts aren't deep enough to need stitches, in fact they looked almost surgical. As if his flesh simply opened up at a seam.

"What the fuck?" David whispers, looking up at Quentin, looking for any sort of answer. The others face was slack, and his eyes shone with tears.

"He's really back?" Quentin's voice is so weak it barely escapes his throat. The sound of it breaks David's heart.

"Who's back? Who did this?" David feels rage bubbling in him. He wasn't about to let anyone get away with hurting his friends.

Quentin lets out a slow breath and leans back on the couch. He presses his palms into his eyes, "It's...it's a long fucking story."

David dips a cloth into the warm bowl of water and gently dabs at the blood smeared over Quentin's chest.

"I got time."

\--

To say Quentin told him a long story was a fucking understatement. What he told him was utterly insane and downright horrifying. Quentin had fallen silent after explaining his dream that night, a very familiar sounding dream.

David avoided the man's eyes, looking instead at the neat bandages he had wrapped around the claw marks and putting his first aid kit away.

"You don't believe me. Do you?" Quentin's voice is barely above a whisper. It's so full of despair and defeat that it sends David reeling.

He sighs, and stands up to pace in front of the coffee table. Abandoning the half put away first aid kit. Out of the corner of his eye he can see Quentin watching him from the couch as he puts his jacket on and zips it up. Leaving his bloody shirt o n the floor.

David wasn't sure what to do. Quentin had just told him he was being hunted, in his  _ dreams _ by the dead...ghost of his preschool groundskeeper. Again.

Now he liked Quentin. He liked the guy a lot. So much so that he wasn't even trying to get in his pants so much as actually date him. But this was... _ a lot _ to fucking take in. He stops pacing and runs a hand through his hair.

"Do you have any...proof?" He finally asks.

Quentin's face falls for a moment before he nods, "Yeah. I have proof."

He watches Quentin pick up the binder and flip through the pages, until he stops at one filled with laminated newspaper clippings. David kneels down on the other side of the table and Quentin turns the binder towards him so he can read.

"What's all this then?" He asks as his eyes scan the headlines.

"Reports from the fires. The one that killed him and the one me and Nancy started. Look I'm even mentioned here."

Quentin points to a line on a more recent headline making reference to only one person being injured in the blaze, "These cuts on my chest aren't recent they're from two years ago. The scars reopened because...b-because..."

Quentin trails off. David nods and looks back at the clippings. He didn't doubt they were real events, but there was something so...unbelievable about it. A nagging fear that Quentin was a psychotic arsonist having a mental breakdown crossed his mind.

"So...who's the guy who wants to...kill you?" David asks slowly, having trouble taking himself seriously, "I know you said his name was Krueger but do you have a picture of him?"

Quentin shifts uncomfortably and turns the binder around. He leafs through the pages before pulling out an envelope and passing it to David.

"His birth report and obituary are in there along with a...a uh photo."

David opens the envelope and reads the two small clippings, they were straight to the point. Then he turns the photo over in his hands, and nearly drops it in shock.

"Fuck me I've seen this bloke before."

Quentin jerks forward, "Where?"

David looks at the photo closely. He had seen this guy, he was sure of it. He recognized those eyes. A dull evil green color. The same from his dream.

It was all starting to come back to him. The surreal feeling of it all. The way Quentin acted. It was...childish. It wasn't like him at all. The way he was so silent. It looked like Quentin sure, in the same way an impressionist paintings resembles reality.

He remembers the claws, and the scraping of metal on metal that woke him almost before the phone call.

David puts the photo down back into the envelope. He doesn't want to look, he doesn't want to acknowledge the dread building inside him and the physical pain in his chest. He pulls the front of his shirt up, and looks down.

Two letters are scratched into his skin. The cuts aren't deep, barely even cat scratches. But they bleed.

FK.

Quentin reaches out, and presses his fingers gently onto the cuts, seeing if they're real. His hand is warm and alive. It makes David's heart beat faster.

"I'm so...so sorry." Quentin's hand is shaking, and his voice cracks on the last syllable.

When David looks at him, he's crying.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Behavior give me my david king body pillow or face my wrath


	4. No Mither

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! This is a bit short but eh things are slowly cookin

David cleaned up the cuts on his chest after spending ten minutes shooing Quentin away from him. It was sweet that he wanted to help but every time Quentin looked at his chest he started crying and it was starting to get on his nerves.

"Ok, so...what is this guys deal again?" David asks, as he pulls his shirt over the bandages.

Quentin sighs and flips through the binder absently, "I'm only going to talk about the necessary details. But he's a... he's a monster."

David sits down next to Quentin, he hesitates for a moment before putting his arm around his shoulders. Quentin relaxes ever so slightly.

"So he's a creepy pedophile, and he uh...well..."

David nods, and motions for Quentin to continue.

"Anyway, he was caught and was going to be put on trial. A bunch of shit happened, the prosecutors wanted us to testify but...we were kids. Our parents didn't want us to go up and tell them what he did to us." Quentin sighs and rubs his temples, "Not like I remember now but, god I wish they let us."

David gently pats Quentin's shoulder. He really didn't know what to say about learning his friend was sexually abused as a kid.

"Anyway, our parent's formed a lynch mob and burned him alive in a storehouse after the botched trial."

"What the fuck?"

Quentin lets out a soft laugh and shakes his head, "Yeah I know. He showed it to me in a dream last time. Fooled me." Quentin grumbles bitterly.

"So... he's like a demon? Coming to get revenge?" David asks after a Quentin falls silent. The man leans into him and nods.

"Yeah, I guess so. I did a lot of research on dreams and supernatural stuff after killing him. I pretty much got fucking nothing concrete."

David looks at the binder and journals, all this research on something that was so...unreal. It's not that he didn't believe Quentin, the guy wasn't one to joke around about this stuff. He had always been cagey about why he moved to the UK and anything about his past. Him lying about something this serious and so outlandish was improbable.

"So how did you kill him? The second time."

Quentin brings a hand up and fiddles with his necklace, "We brought him-"

"We?"

"Me and Nancy, I've told you about her a few times. She was his favorite so he...saved her for last."

"Gross."

"Yeah."

Uncomfortable silence falls over them, and the tea kettle from the kitchen dings. David gets up and makes two mugs of tea before returning to the couch. Quentin was starting at the floor, eyes cloudy and distant. He takes the mug without looking up.

"So uh, you and Nancy..." David says as he retakes his seat.

Quentin looks up, leaning back to sink into the couch with a deep sigh. He looks ungodly tired.

"Yeah yeah...we brought him out of the dream and uh, burned him alive?"

David takes a sip of his tea, and raises his eyebrows, "Well that didn't fucken' work the first time innit? Why try again."

Quentin glares at David, sipping his tea and making a face of disgust, "I was trying not to die you dick head. I hadn't slept in like, two days and-" He stops, and takes a breath.

"Look, we didn't really think that it wouldn't work. Hell the fact that any of this is real is a fucking...fucking...." Quentin groans and sets the mug on the table, "Its crazy."

"That's a fucken' understatement," David sighs and sips his drink and pats Quentin's back, "Here you just try and calm down. I look through this, alright?"

David takes the binder and looks at it, noticing that it was organized into four sections with those page separators. The separators were labeled science, dream analysis, history, and theory. He flips to the front and skims the science section. Neat note written in pen, most of it was medical jargon and the science of sleeping. David was never one to read about this sort of thing, but it was concise and understandable. He looks over at Quentin and gently nudges him.

"Don't get comfortable." He warns, not liking the way Quentin was looking.

"Yeah, yeah I just..." Quentin shakes his head. David watches him reach across the table for his bag, pulling out a laptop and a bottle of pills, "I have an appointment at Chetham's later today at eleven."

David looks at the clock, seeing it was only around four at night. He was already pretty damn tired, and the thought of staying up made him feel even more exhausted.

"Think you'll find anything in there?" He asks, looking down at the extensive notes Quentin already had.

"You'd be surprised at what you can't find on the internet." Quentin says as he opens his laptop, "What's your Wi-Fi?"

"Its Smoke, the password is Lions."

Quentin types it in and as he waits for it to connect he knocks back two pills from the mostly full bottle. Quentin glances at David and shakes the bottle.

"Want one?"

David had heard more lectures about prescription drug abuse from his coach than the average stone heard in his life. Not that he had ever needed to use shit like that to play better than half the other team.

"What is it?"

"ADHD medication. It'll keep you awake."

He glances at the clock again, and feels the fatigue already settling into his bones. He was going to be running on four hours of sleep until this blows over, or he dies. A little drug abuse wasn't something to get mithered about. He holds out a hand, and Quentin shakes out one pill which he takes with a sip of tea. He doesn't really feel any less tired or focused.

"It takes a bit." Quentin chimes in, "You're going to need it. We only have around two days to figure this out."

He looks back at the notes, and turns to the file labelled history and starts reading. It read like a police statement of what had happened, straight and to the point. Not a lot that could help them that they didn't already know. Although he did find one part odd.

"Hey, it says here you shot Nancy with adrenaline to wake her up, yeah?"

Quentin looks up from the screen and nods. David shakes his head, flipping to another part of the section to point out a few lines.

"It says she had already been up for almost three days. She would've been in a coma, no way in hell a burst of adrenaline would wake her up."

Quentin leans in and reads his own notes, frowning slightly, "What? No, no she wouldn't wake up when I shook her but it's not like she was...that wouldn't make sense."

David shrugs, "I'm not tryin' to tell you that it didn't happen, but it's weird. Doesn't make sense."

Quentin gives David a withering look, "This situation doesn't exactly make sense."

"Don't get fucken' mad at me that I'm pointin' out logical discrepancies."

With a huff Quentin turns back to his laptop, "Got anymore five point words that will kill Kreuger or do you wanna help in a real way."

Rage spikes in David's blood, and he momentarily considers punching Quentin in the gut. He takes a slow breath and counts to ten instead. Its fine. Quentin is just on edge from being attacked, and scared. He wasn't helping by asking these questions.

"Fuck you." Is all David spits out before turning to the theory section of the binder. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Quentin flip him off.

This section is much more helpful in David's opinion. The first few pages were theories about Krueger himself and how he became the way he was. Most were short, but the last one held the most evidence. Even if it was a theory that Krueger was powered by literal demons from hell. After that were dissertation on lucid dreaming, meditation, and dream worlds. Very interesting stuff to David's surprise. He had never been big on dreams, he had them yeah, and was pretty good at lucid dreaming. But it's not like the stuff mattered much to him until now.

He doesn't notice the hours tick by as he reads, not until Quentin's phone buzzes. He watches the other type out a text, then frown in surprise.

"Its nine, we should probably get goin'." Quentin says, shoving his laptop in his bag, "Uh...do you have a shirt I could borrow."

David passes the binder back and rubs his eyes, raising his eyebrows at Quentin. It's not like the guy was tiny or anything, but he was a lot lankier than he was. He might have a spare shirt from primary school lying around.

"I'll check." He says as he makes his way to his room.

David gives his bed a longing look before digging through his closet. He tosses his bloodstained shirt to the side and pulls on red sweatshirt instead, it was going to be a shit day he could tell. He rummages through his draws for far too long. He gives up, changing into jeans and pulling on his shoes before returning to the living room.

"Have you considered not being a skinny little twit for once."

Quentin sighs, "You don't have anything?"

"I'll buy you a shirt, lets go."

He opens the door and motions for Quentin to get out of his flat. Quentin looks at his bloodstained shirt before reluctantly leaving. David makes sure he has his wallet before locking the door and making his way to the elevator.

"Hey Quen?"

"What?"

"I get to pick the shirt you wear."

The elevator dings and they get on, Quentin lets out a tired sigh of resignation.

"As long as it fits."

\--

David found out that Quentin was a horrible liar. When they showed up at the library with only the reservation for one, Quentin had almost gotten than both kicked out by insisting they be let in anyway. David had to step in and lie his ass off to the poor girl about how Quentin was a foriegn exchange student, and also an absolute fucking moron for not reserving two spots. He also dropped a tenner in the donation bin, which helped his case exponentially.

Quentin got to work hunting down the books he wanted to dig through, and David followed behind him carrying the stack. He hadn't been in a library to read since graduating school years ago. He enjoyed the novelty of it.

Quentin adds a fourth book to the stack, and looks at his phone one more time before nodding, "I think these should be good. You can take two and I'll take two."

David nods, shifting the books in his hands and following Quentin to a seat. The special books Quentin had requested were already sitting at the table. Quentin drops into his seat and eagerly opens one. David sits, taking the top book from the stack and flipping to the table of contents.

"So I'm lookin' for dream stuff right?"

"Yeah," Quentin says absently, eyes glued to the book, "And demon stuff. I feel really solid on that theory."

Instead of reading, David looks at Quentin. He looked really cute in the RFU shirt David forced him into, the red rose was the only pop of color amongst the greys and blacks of Quentin's usual attire. He could see a bit of a white bandage sticking out from the collar of the shirt. Quentin shifts in his seat and the light of the window illuminates half his face, the single grey lock of hair sticking out of his dark curls like a sore thumb. He was just as cute as the night David saw him at the pub, if not more exhausted.

"David."

He snaps out of adoration train of thought and puts on a half smile, "Yeah?"

"Read."

"Oh sure thing." He looks down at the table of contents and finds the section about nightmares, flipping too it and starting to read.

He was never particularly studious, he tended to get great grades without having to study much. His real focus was on sports, even if it didn't pan put in the end. David holds in a sigh and starts to read the book. It was mostly stuff that he had read before in Quentin's notes, where nightmares came from and that nonsense. Nothing useful.

David flips to the section on demons and starts skimming through. He glances at Quentin every few minutes to see him deep in the leather bound book he had requested. Looks like he was stuck with the four other texts. Great. He pages through the book, finding nothing particularly compelling in helping them kill a dream demon. He closes the book and sets it to the side, grabbing the second book from the pile and flipping it open.

Time drags on, hours have passed by the time David gets to the fourth book and he had found fuck all. Quentin was still entrapped in the book he had requested, he was almost finished with it. He looks down at the text, his head on his hand and slouching from exhaustion.

This sucked. This really sucked. He never tried to stay awake for longer than a day. He never had a reason to be up for hours, and staying awake to avoid being violently dream murdered was a pretty shit reason to be awake. The text swims across the pages of the book, swirling into illegible script.

David sighs and leans back in his chair, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands. The movement makes him feel a bit better, somehow a lot less sleepy. He drops his hands and looks across the table at Quentin.

The chair stood empty, book laying open on the table. David sits up straight, looking around the dark and silent library for Quentin. He didn't see a single soul around, did Quentin...go to the bathroom? He looks out the window, leaves drift past the glass in lazy swirls. Falling towards the empty streets alone. It was pitch black, no streetlights were on.

He was asleep. He fucking fell asleep god dammit.

Adrenalin spikes in his body, and he remains calm. This was ok, if anything happens Quentin would wake him up. This was a perfect opportunity to figure out how these things worked. It was  _ his _ damn dream he can do what he wants in it, right? He looks down at the book he had been reading, and his blood turns to ice.

'You're Both Fucked.'

Written in blood on the pages.

Well, that wasn't very fuckin' comforting. David closes the book, and starts to stand up. Its then that he notices the figure sitting across from him where Quentin had been in the waking world. A man in a striped sweater. He was wearing a fedora, its brim tipped down and blocking the top half of his face. He turned a page of the book with his mangled left hand, his right was gently tapping a blade on the table. 

David was unsure what to do. Mostly he wanted to bash the fuckers skull in until he felt it crack, but he also worried that if he tried anything the thing would shove those claws through his guts. He takes a breath, and tries to keep a straight face. This was his dream, not this cunts nightmare.

"Oi, who the fuck are you?" David growls, gripping the edges of the table.

The creature turns another page, ignoring him. This makes David see red.

"I'm fucking talking to you bitch!"

The claw stops tapping. The lack of sound echoes around the room, but David refuses to be afraid. He watches the thing raise a claw to its lips, and shush him. A sign lights up behind the things back in green and red neon light.

'No Talking.'

David sneers at the monster, and decides to take control. He takes a breath, and focuses on what he wants. What he wants is the sign to go out.

His heart beats, and the sign flickers. He grips the table harder and the sign goes out.

"I'm gonna fucking kill you." David hisses, cocky grin spreading onto his face.

The monster laughs, and looks up. It was still wearing Quentin's face like a mask. Dark curls framing the creatures evil grin. Its green eyes practically glow with evil.

"I wouldn't be so sure, David." It voice is nothing like Quentin's. Gravelly and raspy. As it speaks it leans in, face starting to melt away grotesquely.

Flesh and fat slide off its cheeks and splatter on the table. The sighs caused David's stomach to twist in disgust, and he leans away from the dripping beast almost paralyzed with fear as it crawls toward him. The monsters claws reach out and gently run down the side of his face. The last of the flesh drips off, a piece lands on David's knee. The skin burns through his jeans and sears his skin, causing David to cry out in pain.

He looks down to brush the burning flesh off his knee, by the time he looks back the monsters face was a burned and ugly mesh of flesh. The metal of the claws flash as they pull back for a strike. David flinches when they shoot forward, closing his eyes as a stinging pain blossoms over his cheek.

He opens his eyes and gasps, looking up in shock at Quentin. He was leaning over the table with his right hand raised and fear his eyes. David brings a hand up to his tingling cheek, feeling the warm and tender flesh.

"Did you just slap me?" David asks, too shocked to be mad.

"I'm so sorry I just noticed you feel asleep. I dunno how long but I-I panicked and just..." Quentin tails off, grey eyes drifting just past him, "Oh fuck."

"What?" David frowns and Quentin rounds the table towards him. Hands fluttering nervously around his face.

"Shit I'm sorry. Fuck I should have been paying more attention you're not used to staying up and..."

David feels a warm liquid slid down his neck and he gently touches his ear, pulling his hand away to see blood. His ear didn't hurt yet, but he guessed it looked bad.

"It's fine. I think you're onto somethin' with that lucid dreaming shit. I was able to do some stuff in the dream, seemed to make him real pissed." David smirks and laughs slightly, "He really nicked me, huh?"

Quentin dabs at his ear with his jacket sleeve, it sends a spike of pain through his head.

"Did you really do something in there?" Quentin asks softly. David can hear the fear under his words, the helplessness.

"Yeah. It was a small thing, but I did it." David tilts his head a bit to look up at Quentin, "How did you know to wake me?"

The man shrugs, pulling his blood soaked sleeve away to dig in his backpack, "I dunno. Just looked up and saw you were asleep so I slapped you." He turns to David with a bandage and alcohol wipe in hand.

"Sorry about hitting you."

"It's fine. Better than Krueger fucking up my face anymore than it already is." He replies. Steeling himself for the alcohol pad, but still wincing when Quentin presses it to his ear, "You find anything in that book?"

Quentin seems to perk up at that, he dutifully dabs at David's ear and nods, "Yes, actually. It's a book on demons and rituals, really old bound in human flesh or something."

"Ew."

"I know right? Anyway, there's a whole section on demons and dreams, a bunch of stuff on how there's these demons that like specifically make contracts evil criminals that were executed for their crimes and let them take revenge."

"Sounds really familiar."

Quentin nods and presses a bandage awkwardly onto David's head, he steps back and admires his work. David winks at him, and he rolls his eyes. Walking back to his spot and taking a seat.

"It tell you how to get rid of them?" David asks, leaning forward on the table.

"No, not here...It says that volume two has the exorcism rituals in it. And that book is..." Quentin bites his lip, "I'll be right back."

David watches Quentin get up and he's almost out of whisper range before David can hiss a question at him.

"Where are you going?"

"Bathroom."

Then he rounds the corner and is out of sight. David sighs, and gets to his feet to stretch. He looks at the table filled with books and wonders if all this would be worth anything in the end. He figures they're done here and he starts stacking the books for the librarians to return to their homes. He rubs his eyes and yawns, he could use some more of Quentin's medicine but even a coffee would do now.

Quick and barely audible footsteps sound behind him, and he turns to see Quentin shoving something in his bag and standing up. He gives David a quick smile that makes him forget about anything but Quentin.

"Let's go. I could use a coffee."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> David calling freddy bitch is my peak humor


	5. Fire Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back at it again so soon bcs fuck yeah. That past sexual abuse tag lights up big here, but nothing graphic

Quentin downs half the cup of coffee in only a few gulps. The warmth gives him a boost of energy, and the caffeine will stave off his ever approaching crash. Good to be at death's door again.

"So, uh, what's the rush for a coffee break?" David asks, sipping his coffee with more control than he had shown.

Quentin drops down on a bench near the Starbucks and brings his bag around, wincing at the stings from his cuts. David flops down next to him, arm curling around the back of the bench and subsequently his shoulders. Quentin opens his bag and pulls out the book of exorcism.

"Oh shit did you nick that from the library?" David asks, sounding impressed.

Quentin nods, "Yeah, can't check this out. I'll put it back when we make it out of this."

David shrugs, sipping his coffee, "Steal what you want, I don't give a fuck."

He opens the book, and flips it to the pages detailing the exorcism of a particular type of dream demons. He rests the book on his lap and scoots closer to David until their thighs brush. The contact comforts him.

"Ok so you remember the Alp?"

"Yes of course, how could I forget." David says, sarcasm dripping from his words.

"German demon. Causes nightmares."

David nods, leaning in to look at the book. Eyes reading through the text. Quentin feels his heart starts to beat faster as David moves closer. The others arm brushing against his back made him shiver.

"A-Anyway these types demons can be exercised with a ritual. If we follow the instructions we should be able to kill him."

"Is Krueger Catholic?" David asks absently. The question shocks Quentin so much he can barely think of a response.

"Why the fuck does that matter?" He asks exasperated at David's insistence on distracting him.

"Says it's gotta happen in a church," David says finger tapping the specific line to prove his point, "I think the church he belonged to would be more effective, innit?"

Quentin stares at David in surprise. What he said made a lot of sense, he forgot that David wasn't just his hair trigger temper sometimes.

"Uhh...I don't remember?"

David sighs and rubs his chin in thought, "Well...Krueger is a Germanic last name and they're mainly catholic..."

"I think his mom...was a nun?" Quentin adds, suddenly wishing he had done more research on the man himself. Although the reading about the actual man made him very uncomfortable. He reaches up to run his fingers over the chain of his necklace and, feeling comfort in the metal.

"He's Catholic." Quentin says with renewed faith.

David nods, "I know a church we can go to. It's real old."

"I guess? I dunno if the age of the church matters..." Quentin reads more about the ritual. It seemed relatively simple. Almost too simple. The ritual involved a salt circle, a bunch of herbs, and a prayer.

"Hey Quentin, not to be a wet blanket but I don't think this shits gonna work."

He sighs and leans his head on David's should on defeat, eyes sliding closed. David was right, this was not going to work. Circles of salt and bulbs of garlic aren't going to kill whatever Freddy was. But what else was he going to do? Figure out how to pull it out of the dream and burn him alive every two years? Like hell that would work a second time. Freddy liked to play with his food, doesn't mean he was stupid. He had failed the first time, and now he had failed again. All that research for nothing when put against the real deal.

He thought that next time he saw Freddy, he would take action immediately. Rip him out of his hiding spot in his subconscious and kill him in his world. That was a pipedream and a half. Once he heard the sound of those claws he ran. He ran to David and doomed him to an early death at the hands of his demons. He should have walked out of that bar the moment he said hi. Would have saved him a lot of trouble.

"Hey, you ain't asleep are ya?" David's voice was softer and filled with concern.

"I'm awake." Quentin replies. He didn't think he could sleep if he tried to. Fear worked well at keeping him conscious.

He can feel David breathing, and the warmth emanating from where they touch. As much as he regrets bringing David into this mess he is glad the man is here. It kept him for losing his cool at the first sign of Krueger. David's hand begins to rub his back. It tugs at his bandages slightly, not enough to hurt but there's a sting.

"We're still gonna' do this right? I mean might as well try this witch shit after I beat his head in. "

Quentin nods, focusing on David and not the hell around him. He wants to draw what little comfort he can from what he has left. David falls silent, and Quentin hears him turn the page, reading ahead in the book. The crowd around him fades into a soft buzz until he is in utter silence. Just the soft hum of mall music.

He opens his eyes, and the mall is empty. When Quentin sits up he sees that David is gone too. He didn't feel like he was asleep, in fact if he concentrated a little he could hear the hum of the crowd he left behind and the warmth of David against his side. He stands and walks a few steps away from the bench. The warmth at his side remains, admittedly it felt odd but it gave him a boost of confidence.

Using that boost of confidence Quentin makes his way through the empty mall. Landscape shifting between the Manchester mall and the one he frequented at home. He had done more research on meditation and lucid dreaming, even going as far as to practice some techniques. He must be in a sort of meditative dream right now, probably triggered my Krueger's return. He stops at a mediocre fountain and watches cupids weakly spitting water out towards a sad middle spout. He looks in, expecting to see coins at the bottom. Instead it's littered with human teeth.

Bile rises in Quentin's throat and he steps back in disgust. The water starts to bubble and boil, turning red and thick with blood. He swallows back the urge to vomit and turns his back to the fountain, facing the empty mall.

"Real classy, Krueger. Which shitty Clive Barker book did you pull that one from?" He yells into the void, words echoing through the halls in a vicious mockery of Krueger garbage fright effects.

The music overhead stops instantly. Quentin holds back a psychotic grin. Someone was getting mad.

"Oh sorry is that too high of a lexicon? Maybe you read it in Sunset Magazine next to the section about sprouting marigolds!"

The lights start to shut off. Starting at the furthest point of the endless halls, darkness creeps forward. He can see swirling leaves in the black void and swallows nervously, Krueger was good at being creepy he could give him that. The lights above him and the fountain remain on at least, but he doesn't know what's worse. Being exposed in the light or lost in the dark. Behind him he hears a distant whistle. He turns toward the gory fountain trickling away and squints into the dark hallway. The whistle sounds again, closer this time. Along with the sound of wheels, and a familiar nursery rhyme.

Out of the darkness of the hall a small train emerges. It's painted bright and garish primary colors, the type children ride on at a mall like this. The whistle blows and Quentin makes out the vague shape of the conductor as the train passes closer.

A mannequin wearing a striped sweater and hat. His eyes drift to the shadow shape of passengers on the train. It takes him a moment to realize they were also dolls. Mutilated and bloody dolls. Dolls of his childhood classmates, of Kris, Dean, and Jesse. Quentin gasps in horror and stumbles back, bumping into someone behind him. A clawed hand rests heavily on his shoulder.

"There's a seat open for you, Quentin."

The voice drips acid down his spine, and makes his stomach twist. All the confidence he had felt vanishes. All the anger and fear and hatred couldn't make him turn around and punch the monster in his closet. The hand tightens, claws poking into his shoulder, and wrenching Quentin around to face him.

He looks up into the burned face, in the glowering eyes. He notices the scar on the fuckers neck from last time, and feels hopelessness deep in his bones. Krueger leans in, ungloved hand resting on his shoulder and pushing him back a step.

"You always liked my flowers, Quentin..." He says softly, voice rasping out of its throat, "Don't you remember?"

A cold knife of Freddy's glove runs down the side of his face, causing him to let out a shuddering gasp of fear. He can't bring himself to move, he knows he's helpless. He can't fight back against an adult.

Freddy pushes him back another step and his heel hits the edge of the fountain, the hand presses down with brute strength. Forcing him to sit on the ledge of the fountain. He wants to go home. He wants to go back to his daddy. Freddy's leans down, resting a boot on next to him. The cold mangled hand drags up his shoulder and grips his throat. It squeezes tight, and pushes him back slowly towards the blood below.

"Freddy I want to go home." Quentin whispers, barely able to breath in the crushing grip "Can-can I go home now?"

Freddy grins, melted flesh twisting into grotesque patterns. He can feel the humidity of the blood against his jacket.

"Just a few more minutes." Freddy mocks, echoing the half remembered hell hidden deep in Quentin's past. The hand tightens into a death grip, cutting off his oxygen

No.

No.

No.

He wasn't going to let this happen. Not again. Not ever. He can feel the warmth of David by his side, and the hum of the crowd. He focuses on that, and reaches up. Ripping the hat of Freddy's head.

"I'm going home."

Then he closes his eyes, count to three, and opens them.

He's back in the real world, David at his side buried in the book; hand clutching a burnt fedora. He sits up abruptly, head bumping into David's chin.

"Quentin what the fuck?"

He turns to David and feels relief. He was still awake, he was ok. He snaps the book in his lap shut and practically straddles David as he pulls him into a hug. The man stiffens below him before patting his back. Quentin buries his face in David's neck and takes a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself down.

"Hey uh, you ok? You didn't fall asleep did ya?" David asks, confusion evident in his tone.

Quentin pulls back, awkwardly balancing himself in David's lap and holding the hat up with a strange pride. David looks down and frowns.

"I'll be damned..." David says softly, gently touching the singed fabric, "That his?"

"Yeah. It is. I woke myself up, it's this meditation technique I practiced I didn't think it would work!" He hears a few snickers and climbs off David's lap, grabbing the book and shoving it in his bag. He shoves the hat in as well, "Let's go."

"Uh, where?"

"Whole Foods."

"We don't got that shit here."

\--

Quentin looks on the shelf in deep concentration. The ritual called for four candles, but the store only had two white candles and two black candles. He looks at the book again and frowns at the unclear instructions of four candles. He guesses the colors don't matter that much if it wasn't even listed...

He takes the candles and dumps them in the basket with the matches, redbull, and salt. Quentin makes his way down the aisle and looks around for David. He had left him in the produce section with a list of herbs to find while he grabbed the other junk. He rounds the corner to see David staring selecting a container of blackberries. Quentin sidles up next to him and holds out the basket, David dumps his armful of herbs on into it without missing a beat.

"When it says black berry does it mean the plant or the berry?" David asks, holding up the plastic package.

Quentin looks at the book, flipping to the part about ingredients, "It just says blackberry?"

David drops the container on the basket and shakes his head, "These instructions are unclear as hell."

Quentin looks into the basket, mentally checking off the items, "Do we need anything else?"

"Bin bags?" David offers, "To clean the church up."

"Oh yeah, sure."

Quentin reads over the ritual as he follows David to the bags. It said that a sacrifice had to retrieve the demon from the other plane. He didn't like the wording of that at all, but he figured peasant dreams in the 1800s were more dangerous than his modern dreams. No, he was really worried about breaching the topic of who was going to get the demon. David sets a box of trash bags in the basket, and nods to himself. Quentin returns the book to his bag and looks at his phone. It was only 4 in the afternoon and the ritual needed to take place at midnight. He also had a bunch of texts and a call from his dad asking where he was.

"Hey David can we stop at my apartment after this?" He asks as they approach the checkout counter. David starts emptying the basket onto the belt.

"Sure, I finally get to meet your dad?"

Quentin looks at David, and shakes his head.

"My dad didn't like my honor student girlfriend in Ohio, think he would like a drop out, bar hopping, alley brawler?"

David smirks, and shoos Quentin out of the way to swipe his card. Grabbing the bags from the till, "Ooh you implyin' what I think you're implyin'?"

Quentin rolls his eyes, and texts his dad that he was on his way back. He makes up some excuse that a friend needed him to do something for him.

"I'm implying my dad is a bit of a prick who cares a little too much." He slides his phone into his pocket after getting a reply that his dad wasn't home but to be safe, "He burned a man alive for diddling me."

David snorts, and shakes his head, "Well that's one way to put it."

Quentin digs the red bull out of the bag and cracks it open, he takes a few gulps before holding it out to David. The other takes a sip and makes a face before passing it back.

"Taste like shit, mate."

"Hell yeah it does."

He follows David through the streets and towards his house. Happy that he doesn't have to deal with messing with his navigation.

"The church I'm thinking of goin' to closes around ten. Should be empty by eleven, and easy to break into."

Quentin raises his eyebrows, "Ooh, breaking into a church. Is that a sin?"

"Let's hope not."

David turns the corner and Quentin recognizes the street, he takes the lead and lets David into the complex. Calling the elevator and going up to his floor. He digs his keys out of his pocket and unlocks the door, signalling for David to wait while he peeks in. The apartment was silent and empty, he waves David in with him.

"Don't touch anything. He'll know."

David looks around curiously as he follows Quentin to his room. He opens the door and makes his way to his bed, dumping his bag out on the sheets. He sets his binder, journal and laptop to the side. They wouldn't be needed. He returns the book to the bag, along with all the containers of herbs, salt and berries. He examines Krueger's hat before putting it in the bag as well. Might come in handy.

"You got any good records for this?" David asks, making him jump. He almost forgot the guy was there.

He turns to see him looking at his vinyl on his desk. Suddenly he's hyper aware that this is the first guest he's had over. Thankfully his room wasn't messy or anything, he had actually done his laundry a few days ago.

"Oh uh, yeah they're in a crate uh...there." He says, pointing at David's feet.

"Cool, mind if I play one?"

"Go ahead..."

Quentin decides now would be a good time to change his bandages. He shuffles past David and into the hallway. He makes his way to the bathroom and grabs the first aid kit from under the sink. He can hear the first few beats of Love Will Tear Us Apart as he opens his door again. David was standing awkwardly off to the side, looking around the room curiously.

"You can sit." Quentin says, setting the first aid kit on his bed and taking his jacket off.

He can hear David pull out his desk chair and sits down. Carefully he pulls the shirt David got him off and looks down at his chest. There were a few specks of blood peeking through, but they looked fine. He starts unwinding the bandages, dropping them in a pile off the side. Pulling the last layer off he looks down at the reopened scars on his chest, and gently runs his fingers over the scabs. It hurts a bit, but no worse than any other cut.

As he looks at the marks, he thinks about the monster they need to face. One of them had to go into the dreamworld to get him. Last time Nancy had done it, she had trusted him to stay awake and keep her safe. All he did was fall asleep and get absolutely fucked up in a fight. Every time he saw Freddy he froze up. He couldn't bring himself to really fight, he just let himself get tossed around. Earlier when he was supposedly in control during his meditation all he did was ask to go home. He asked Freddy if he could leave, just like he did when he was five.

He shivers, and picks up a fresh roll of gauze. Winding it over his chest and covering the tender wounds. What the fuck was wrong with him? He wished he didn't remember what happened to him. Ge wished he could fight back against Freddy, but he just can't. When he saw that monster masquerading as a man, a deep hidden part of his brain from childhood told him to stand still and do what he was told. Because if he stood there it would stop.

He ties of the gauze, and pulls the shirt David got him back on. He wipes his eyes, and lets out a slow breath. This was different he wasn't five anymore, and more importantly he wasn't alone. He runs his fingers through his hair and turns around. David had turned half away to give him some privacy to change.

"David..." Quentin pauses to clear his throat, sounding a little pathetic. The man perks up and turns to face him, "Thanks. For uh, all the help. I couldn't do it without...you."

David smiles. It's not one of his shit eating grins or cocky smirks. It's an honest to god smile. It melts Quentin's heart.

"'Course I'm here for you mate. I don't got many friends, and I ain't about to let the ones I got die in their dreams."

He wonders if it would be weird to hug David again. He crosses his arms and sinks to the floor instead, leaning against his bed with a sigh. He stares at the roof in dejection. At least this would be over soon, for better or worse. He hears David get up and shuffle over, and feels him take a seat next to him with a sigh.

"It's nice spending' time with you. It sucks that I feel like I'm about go collapse and keep getting hit on by a long dead pedophile,but its still nice."

Quentin leans over until he bumps into David's shoulder. His new favorite place to rest.

"He hit on you?"

David groans, "He hugged me."

"Ooh....gross."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my gf for giving me the train idea abd the david ling body pillow we bought and i cuddled with while writing


	6. Vigil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someomes gonna say f@g this chapter can u guess who it is?
> 
> Also my amazing and talented gf drew some scenes from this fic! The last image is a sneak peek for this chapter!
> 
>  
> 
> [here](https://exhaustedjakepark.tumblr.com/post/184760886506/i-did-a-couple-sketch-boxes-based-on-my)

"I'm just saying Linus is completely justified in his antagonizing of the guy. He's a fuckin' nerd. Who brings a dream journal to show an tell?"

Quentin elbows David, and takes another handful of popcorn from the bowl on the others lap, "Oh are you going to side with Freddy next? After all Sharkboy has gone through?"

David snorts and shakes his head, "I dunno Freddy is more of a Mr. Electric type. Bad jokes, Linus is a serious bloke."

"God, just the worst jokes." Quentin says with a groan.

He yawns, and takes a drink of his redbull before sitting up a bit straighter. Trying not to get comfortable, but it was hard when David was running his fingers over his thigh in soothing patterns. They still had an hour left until they needed to leave to make it to the church and set up by midnight. In an attempt to pass the time Quentin had started the most lighthearted dream based media he could find on 123videos. Cinematic masterpiece Sharkboy and Lavagirl.

"I can't believe Sharkboy is also Jacob from Twilight." Quentin says, enraptured in the song and dance the aquatic child performs.

"Are you shitting me? He's Jacob?" David shakes his head and takes more popcorn than a civil man should, "Jacob was cute. Wish he didn't cut his hair in the second movie."

"No way, he looks the best with his hair short." Quentin replies, shaking his head in disbelief at David's bad taste.

"Sure he looks fine with the close crop, but I like the more grown out look." David loops his arm over Quentin's shoulder and runs his fingers through Quentin's hair for emphasis. The action makes his heart beat faster.

Quentin debates shooing David's hand away, but decides to allow himself the contact. Not that he and David weren't basically cuddling on his bed. He takes that moment to grab some popcorn from the fortknox that is David's lap, wondering if the other would mind him taking the place of the bowl.

"Who would win in a fight, Sharkboy or Jaco-" David is cut off by the sound of the door opening.

Shit, his dad was home.

Quentin jumps forward and stops the movie,  pressing a finger to his lips to signal David to be quite. He hears his dad moving around in the front room and his eyes dart around his room in a panic.

"You have to hide."

A look of confusion washes over David's face and he looks around Quentin's small room with equal amounts of worry.

"Where?" David asks, setting the popcorn aside.

Quentin shoots up and speedwalks to his closet, opening the doors and shoving some items further into the back in an attempt to clear a space for David.

"Get in."

"Are you kidding? I can't fit in the-"

"Quentin?" His dads voice calls from the hallway, he can hear the slight annoyance in his tone.

"Yeah?" He calls back before turning to glare at David.

"Get. In. The. Closet." He hisses.

With a few choice curse words, David enters the closet. Ducking down to fit in the small space. Quentin closes the door moments before his dad knocks on his door. He races to the door and cracks it open before his dad can barge in. He nudges David's shoes out of sight.

"Hey." He says as casually as he could manage. Thankfully his dad doesn't look angry, just worried.

"Where have you been? I came in to check on you at five and you were gone. Didn't answer my texts and calls all day..." He trails off into a sigh. Quentin watches Dad look him up in down. Eyes stopping at his neck and narrowing.

"S-sorry. David uh, needed my help with moving...stuff. And I just ended up...staying...at his place for a while..." As Quentin speaks he watches his dad start to frown in disapproval. He brings a hand up and nervously rubs the back of his neck.

"Did he do that to you?" His Dad asks, barely concealed anger in his voice.

In a flash Quentin remembers the deep purple bruises that had developed on his neck from his dream, and panics. Before he can even speak his dad had slips into lecture mode.

"Is that man hurting you? Is that why you don't want to bring him around? I looked up his school record and he has a violent streak you know."

Quentin glares at his dad, anger bubbling in his chest, "Why the hell did you do that? Isn't that supposed to be private information? What's wrong with you?"

"Why can't you just...meet some nice people Quentin?" His dad snaps, trying to change the subject.

"David  _ is _ a nice person! So what he got into a few fights you and I both know he was on the honor roll. Oh wait, that wasn't good enough for Nancy, huh?" Quentin glances behind him at the closet and closes the door a little more, "No ones fucking good enough for you!"

Dad's face shifts into a look of guilt before settling into a determined expression, "I liked Kris. She was a nice girl."

"Well she's been dead for two years. Along with Jesse. And Dean. Or did you forget all my friends died because of Fre-"

"Stop it with that! Freddy Krueger is dead!he's been dead for fourteen years Quentin! I don't know why you did that to yourself-"

"He did that to me!" Quentin yells, anger bubbling over at his dads constant denial of his pain, "He hasn't ever left!"

Quentin points an accusing finger at his dad, feeling pain in his chest that wasn't the claw marks, "If you had just let him go and didn't kill him-"

"He deserved it!"

"I don't care if he deserved it! You still murdered him! And now he's going to kill-"

"Stop!" His dad snaps, shutting Quentin up instantly, "Just...stop..." His dad's voice fades to a sad resigned tone.

He can't stop the anger buzzing in his skull, this was all his dad's fault. The vision from two years ago never left his mind, the heartlessness in his dad's actions. He didn't pity Freddy anymore, but even he knew that man should be rotting in prison not stalking his dreams. Quentin closes the door on his dad and leans against it. He sinks down to the floor and lowers his head between his knees, curling in on himself. His bruises and cuts burn.

"Quentin...let's talk in the morning ok?"

He didn't even think he would be alive by morning. Most likely not. This was going to he his last conversation with his dad.

"Goodnight son."

"Goodnight."

He listens to his dad walk away and takes a deep breath, getting to his feet. He walks to the closet, opening it up to reveal a very uncomfortable David.

"Let's go."

David nods, and steps out of the closet, he stays quiet. Quentin turns away and walks to his bed, reaching under his pillow and pulling out the switchblade he keeps there. He closes his laptop and pulls on his back pack. They had two hours until midnight.

"Hey...uh...Quentin?" David whispers.

"Yeah?"

"I don't think your dad likes me."

This causes him to let out a soft laugh, "He really doesn't, huh?"

Quentin puts on one of his beanies, and writes a quick note for his dad. For when he didn't come home again.

"Can you drive?" Quentin asks, checking around his room to see if he needed anything else.

"No, why the fuck would I?"

"You city slickers are so spoiled. Let's hope we don't get pulled over." Quentin says, slowly cracking his door open and peeking out.

He couldn't see his dad anywhere. He waves for David to follow him. Making his way to the living room and carefully grabbing the car keys off the hook. He feels like he's seventeen again as he sneaks out the door with David in tow. They make their way to the basement parking in silence. Quentin was still seething in anger, but he was starting to calm down a bit.

"Sorry you had to hear that."

David shrugs, leaning against the back of the elevator, "It's alright mate. I've had my fair share of blows. Not over anythin' like your guys' issues."

Quentin laughs, "Issues is an understatement. Sharkboy can't save me from this."

The elevator dings and Quentin steps out, searching for his dad's car. He finds it tucked away in the back and unlocks the door, jumping in the driver's seat. David hops in the passenger seat.

Quentin looks at the wheel and then the middle console. He hated these backwards ass cars. He sticks the key in the ignition and starts the car, carefully pulling out of the parking lot.

"I'll point you to a car park a few blocks away so your dad isn't arrested." David says, before ordering him to make a left. Quentin drives slow and uncertainty, not used to being on the other side of the road.

"I hate your countries stupid roads." Quentin growls after getting honked at for the fourth time. David snickers, obviously enjoying Quentin's struggles with backwards roads.

"It ain't that hard. Just don't be stupid."

"Say's the guy without a license in any country."

"I got a metro card. And I can ask my dads chauffeur to drive me."

Quentin rolls his eyes and turns into a parking lot, "Way to sound like a prick."

"When have I ever denied it."

Quentin shrugs in agreement and stops the car, shutting and locking the door before tucking the keys away, "Alright, where's the church?"

"Right this way." David says, leading him down the street and through a few back alleys. Quentin realizes right then that he had no idea how they were going to get in at all. David stops at the door, glancing down the street before trying the doorknob. It doesn't turn.

"Are we going to have to break a window?" Quentin asks, not entirely keen on vandalizing the church.

"Nah, keep look out." David says as he pulls a small container out of his pocket.

Quentin turns and does as he's told. No he doesn't see anyone coming towards them. He glances back to David to see him attempting to pick the lock.

"Do a lot of breaking and entering?" Quentin teases.

"I forget my keys all the time."

He snorts, hearing the tell tale click and watching David turn the lock and push the door open.

"After you."

Quentin rolls his eyes and walks into the church, pulling his phone out and turning on the flashlight app. He rounds the corner to the main hall. It was dimly lit and very creepy. Two rows of pews faced a raised altar, behind that were detailed statues carved into the wall and framed in stone arches. Above that were the words Respexit Humilatiem Ancillea. Pillars stood at the edges of the pews, separating congregation area from two side halls with more carvings at the end. It was beautiful.

David lets out an impressed whistle as he sidles up next to Quentin, shining his own phone around.

"Classy. Can I curse in here?"

Quentin elbows him before making his way down the middle of the pews towards the altar. He climbs up on the raised platform, walking around the altar and examining the space behind. It looked big enough to make a salt circle they could fit in. He crouches down and opens his bag. Pulling out the containers of salt and various herbs. He opens the book to the page and studies the drawing of the circle. It was incredibly simple. A circle with four triangles pointing into the cardinal directions that he was supposed to place the herbs.

"Do you have a compass?" Quentin asks, realizing he has no idea which way north is.

"Oh nah, but I know which way is north. Got a good mental compass." David says, tapping his temple for emphasis. Quentin rolls his eyes, if all else fails he could use his phone.

Quentin picks up the salt, looking over the instructions on the book again. He bites his lip and decides to breach the issue that's been looming over him. He takes a breath and looks up, almost jumping in surprise to see the man had crouched in front of him.

"I'm going in." David says firmly.

Relief floods Quentin's system instantly, along with waves of guilt. He couldn't sit vigil this time. Not after he failed Nancy. He would fall asleep again and this time Freddy won't let him live long enough for a second chance. David's hand rests on his shoulder, the weight is gentle and comforting, he brings his hand up and rests it on top of David's.

"You can go in with me with your meditation shit. Then wake me up when you know I have him."

Quentin shakes his head, "No no, I can't let you do that. Not after what I did to Nancy. She almost died because of me because I couldn't-"

"But she didn't die, you were there to help her. Sure you fucked up here and there but in the end you didn't let her die. You two saved each other." David grins and squeezes his shoulder, "Sides' I wanna have a go at the fucker before we send him to hell."

He stares at the floor between them, emotions churning in his stomach and mind. Doubt shines through. Doubt that he would be able to wake David up, or go into the dream autonomously. Every time he saw Freddy he just froze in fear, his mind told him to just stand still and bear it. Old habits die harder than any nightmare.

It was die trying, or die cowering. And he wasn't going to let that monster have it easy.

"Alright. Lay down on the ground and I'll draw the circle."

David nods and stands up, offering a hand to Quentin. He takes it and lets David pull him up. Holding onto the warm hand a few beats longer before squeezing it and letting go. He watches David lie on the red carpet, shifting a bit to get comfortable. Quentin opens the container and starts pouring salt onto the ground. He draws a relatively wide circle around David, maybe seven feet around.

"Ok uh, which way is north?"

David sits up and thinks for a moment before leaning to point at a spot near the carved statues, "Here, south, east is there and well you know."

Quentin nods and draws triangles in salt at the points. He checks the books again before placing the herbs in the corresponding directions. Then he sets the candles outside the circle between each triangle. He steps back and observes at his work, noting that it looked very stupid.

"Y'know Quentin, I feel right creeped out."

"Ugh you're telling me."

He checks his watch, only about five minutes until midnight.

"Uh, you need to do anything before I close the circle? Go to the bathroom or something?"

David thinks for a moment before shaking his head and laying, "No I'm real comfy right here on the floor. Ready for a real nice nap."

Quentin rolls his eyes, and double checks that everything is correct. He had to light the first candle at Midnight exactly, and light the fourth one before a minute passed. Then chant the name of the four angels four times, then...hope.

"Ok last chance. The only way you can leave the circle is for me to carve a door. As soon as you wake up push Freddy away and back up. As soon as you're out I'll trap him. Them we pray."

David nods, and a small smirk crosses his features

"...There is one thing I could use..." David says softly, crossing his arms behind his head and getting cozy.

"What? A glass of water?"

David snorts and shakes his head, "Nah. Could go for a goodnight kiss."

Quentin feels warmth rise to his cheeks at the joke, and without giving too much thought he walks over to David and kneels down. David raises his eyebrows and that shit eating smirk widens. He looked so at ease despite their lives being on the line, but Quentin can pick out the furrow in his brow and the fear in his eyes.

He leans down, and presses a feather light kiss to David's cheek.

"We make it out of this alive, and I'll give you a real kiss."

A grin spreads across David's face, replacing the smirk, and he winks, "Oh I'll see to that, love."

Quentin stands and exits the circle, crouching by the northwest candle. A few minutes tick by in dead silence and he listens to David's breathing slows as the man drifts away. His phone buzzes in his pocket at eleven fifty-nine. He stares intently at the screen until the clock strikes midnight.

He lights a match, and sets the first candle alight. Quickly he runs the second, then the third, lighting the fourth as fast as he can. Once they're all lit, he clears his throat and speaks the angels names out loud. Feeling incredibly stupid.

As soon as he finishes the chant, nothing happens. David sleeps in the center of the circle, and the candles flicker gently.

Defeat taps at the edge of his mind, but Quentin ignores it. He marches to the organ and picks up the ancient metronome on top, walking back to the circle. He sits as close as he can to David's head and sets the metronome next to him. He starts the metronome ticking at sixty bpm before taking out his switchblade. Carefully he cuts two small lines in the salt, effectively creating a doorway for David. He puts his knife back in his pocket and closes his eyes, focusing on breathing in time with David and the slow tick of the machine.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the sound of the ticking fades into his subconscious. The world slips away and he knows he's in the dream before long. Quentin opens his eyes and finds himself sitting cross legged on his teachers desk back at Bedham preschool. He's facing the blackboard staring down a crude hangman drawn on the board, one arm away from death. Below the stick figure a few letters were written in garish yellow chalk. D,A,I,D with a space between the A and I.

He swallows nervously and slides off the desk, pulling the switchblade out of his pocket before turning around. The desks of the classroom faced the front, and in the seat were the rotted corpses of his classmates. Quentin stumbles back, bumping into the blackboard and retching in disgust at the sight. He needed to leave right the fuck now. It takes minutes for him to collect his composure, breathing slowly and evenly. He didn't have time to sit around, David had been stuck in the dream longer than him. He might be dead by now.

Gripping the switchblade for dear life he keeps his eyes down and begins crawling to the door. He can feel the glassy eyes of his friends following him as he moves toward the exit. He struggles to hold back sobs as keeps his eyes glued to the floor, feeling his way forward with his hands until he can push the door open and escape. He stands and closes the door before backing away, listening to the distant tick of the metronome in the waking world to calm himself.

He had to start moving. Freddy wouldn't bring David to him. He looks down the hallway. Each direction stretched a few hundred feet before turning sharply. He couldn't hear anything either and nothing was visibly different about the halls. Quentin steps away from the wall and walks down the right hallway. The sound of his footsteps echoing softly and nothing else. He wondered if it would be a good idea to call out to David. It would alert Freddy that he was here, although he was sure the monster already knew.

He gets to the end of the hallway, the sharp turn leading into another endless hall that looked exactly like the one he was just in. Quentin runs down the hall, rounding the corner to the exact sight behind him. Freddy was just going to loop him while he was doing god knows what to David.

"Krueger!" Quentin yells, trying to draw him out the same way Nancy did. Although he gets the feeling Freddy wasn't going to come running for his second choice.

He grits his teeth and walks back to the entrance of his classroom. With a shaking hand he pushes the door open, returning to face his rotting friends. Immediately he averts his eyes from the leering skulls and shuffles to the blackboards half finished game of hangman. He glances down at the shelf before opening every drawer of the desk for a piece of chalk. All the drawers are empty. Quentin turns to the blackboard and glares at it.

He flicks the switch on the blade, and the knife pops up. He looks at it for a moment before pressing it against his index finger, making a small incision. He waits as the blood pools before stepping to the bored and filling the empty space with a V.

Nothing happens for a few seconds, the red letter glares at him mockingly before the chalk and blood sink into the blackboard. Tentatively he presses a hand to it and pushes. With little force it falls in on the wall and shatters like glass below. He switches the knife back into the handle and leans his head out of the hole. Shattered pieces of chalkboard littered the lattice work steel of a walkway only a few feet down. Eerily similar to the place Freddy had kicked his ass last time.

He climbs out of the new hole, dropping onto the steel with a dull thud. Chalkboard crunching under his feet. The smell of smoke was stronger here, it made him feel like David was closer than before. He starts towards the stairs of the walkway, taking them two at a time. Following the scent of smoke like a bloodhound. He knew he was close.

In no time he reaches the ground floor and beelines towards an unremarkable steel door. He could vaguely hear a cackling voice, and an evil metallic grinding noise. He crouches down slightly, trying to stay quiet as he presses against the wall by the door.

"Come on then you two bit fag stop runnin'. I'll rip you to pieces!" David's voice rings out strong before melting into a scream of pure agony.

"Sorry you weren't Quentin's first fuck, David. You'd like him. Does exactly what he's told."

Quentin's knees lock up and his blood practically stops in his veins. His grip on the switchblade tightens until his knuckles turn white. Hearing those words from Freddy's mouth made him want to vomit. The memories of what that monster did to him threaten to make themselves known. If he let them, it would be over.

He hears a boot connect with flesh, and flinches at the groan of pain.

"Look at you. All smoke and no fire..." Freddy's voice croons.

"Get off me." David's voice comes out cracked and laced with pain. He coughs and Quentin can hear him spit something out.

"Don't you fucking get it?" Freddy laughs, and his voice drops so low Quentin can barely hear it, "I'm your boyfriend now,  David."

Those words finally push Quentin into action. He switches the blade out and yanks the door open, rushing at Freddy. The man straddling David with his back to Quentin, holding the man's biceps down with his knees, mere centimeters from David's face.

Freddy turns slightly at the crash of the door, a mild look of shock on his face when Quentin shoves the switchblade directly into his throat. Hot black blood covers his hands, spraying from the new hole in Freddy's windpipe. It chokes, and Quentin releases the blade as he raises his foot and kicks the hilt of the knife deeper into the fuckers neck pushing him off David.

He grabs David's arm and drags him away from the choking monster. David is gasping in pain, pushing himself along the floor as Quentin pulls. With his free hand he rips something out with a disgusting snapping noise. He watches David turn to forcefully vomit up rose petals and thorns.

"Hey Quentin." He says, voice rough and gravely.

He looks at Freddy, who was attempting the pull the blade out with one hand, then back to David.

"You know what to do?"

David nods, and Quentin helps him up. David did not look good at all, he was covered in small scratches and bruises. Vines with sprouting roses were looped around his wrists and legs, cutting into his skin. He's so distracted by David's wound's he yelps in surprise when David grabs his arm and shoves him into the wall behind them.

He hits the wall and slides down, the wind knocked out of his lungs. He looks up when David falls to the floor in front of him, blood dripping from his face. The switchblade falls to the floor at Freddy's feet.

"Wake up." David pants through gritted teeth as he rises again. Taking a wobbly step towards Freddy and reaching for the monster.

Quentin closes his eyes, and focuses on the metronome. The same beat as his heart.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

One.

Two.

Three.

Quentin opens his eyes, and snaps his fingers.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If u guessed david u were right!! Hes using the british slang for it, but this aint the first time someone's called freddy that


	7. Dead Hard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Freddy vs David part 2 eletric boogaloo. This chapter was getting long at the end so i cut it into 2 parts just for u guys

David closes his eyes, listening to Quentin move around the circle. The guy sure knew how to encourage him to fight dream demons. David was a real sucker for kisses and sappy shit like that. Didn't think he was such a sucker for it he would die, but lo and behold.

To his surprise he finds himself drifting off to sleep rather easily. He figured the threat of death would keep him awake, even if he was approaching twenty-four hours without a small nap. He shifts, trying to get comfortable on the thinly carpeted concrete.

A wind blows, and his eyes open to a black void. He sits up as leaves drift around him, scraping audibly on the asphalt of empty street. David gets to his feet taking a steady breath. He felt calm enough. Fear tugged at his nerves, a gentle reminder that he was facing death itself. Although David never was one to start a fight he couldn't finish, no matter who was.

Ahead of him was an American nursery school in disrepair, peeling and crumbling paint along with charred roof. Freddy's probably hanging out in there no doubt. David starts walking towards the school across the large immaculate lawn and towards the fenced in area. Nasty looking thorny rose bushes sprouted at the foot of the fence, ensuring painful entry. He can hear the sounds of movement behind the bushes. Running feet and the soft hum of a song.

"One, two Freddy's coming for you."

David shudders at the children's voices, and shoves some leaves of the bushes away. He grabs the top of the chain link fence and hoists himself over, wincing as the thorns inevitably cut into his skin.

"Three, four better lock your door."

He swings his legs over the fence, vines ensnaring his pants as he climbs.

"Five, six grab your crucifix."

David drops down to the ground below, landing in a crouch and looking around the yard. To his right there was a small playfort with a slide and swing, he could see two small children running around the slide and one on the swing.

"Seven, eight stay up late."

On his left was a group of girls jumping rope and singing softly. As he stands up, all the children turn to look at him expectantly for a for a few seconds before turning away to continue playing. They're the children in the photo Quentin had, they had to. David feels intensely uncomfortable standing amongst the robotic children. He can't quite remember their names, Quentin had only mentioned a few of them that weren't Nancy. He makes his way to the play fort, crouching down so he's eye level with the child on the swing with curly hair.

"Hey, are you...Quentin?" He asks, trying to shake the feeling of unease in his bones. The kid nods.

"Nice to meet you, I'm David." He looks around, "Do you know where the gardener is?"

Child Quentin shakes his head, as he does to a whistle blows and all the children freeze. Quentin stands from the swing, and takes David's hand in his small one. He's ice cold, it practically burns David's skin. The child gently tugs David towards the entrance to the school.

"Playtime is over. If we stay we get in trouble."

Wordlessly David lets Quentin drag him inside with the other kids. He leads him through the winding halls of the nursery, the two taking up the back of the line. After walking though far more halls than should be possible Quentin leads him into a classroom. Its empty save for the teacher's desk and enough desks for each child. He notices one student seat stands empty.

"That's for Nancy," Quentin whispers, "Don't sit there, or Mr. Freddy will get mad."

The phrase sends a shiver down his spine, and Quentin lets go of his hand to take a seat at the desk next to Nancy and another boy. Leaving David in the doorway alone. The children gaze forward vacantly, like dolls. It makes David shudder and avert his eyes. Instead turning to look at the blackboard, noticing a half finished game of hangman. The poor stick figure was one arm away from being hung, and below it not a single letter of the phrase was complete.

David walks up to the board, looking at the phrase. It was five words, the first two were filled out as the numbers nine and ten. He picks up a piece of chalk, and starts filling out the empty lines.

'Never sleep again.'

It fits. He takes a step back, and the lights go out throwing him into pitch black. David freezes, dropping the chalk and listening to it clatter to the floor. Slowly red light starts leaking in from all sides, illuminating the room once again.

The classroom and children were gone, replaced with an evil looking mesh of ironwork's. It was like a boiler room, but stretched out a hundred times its normal size. Lattice work iron catwalks spanned above him, casting irregular black shadows across the room. Distantly he hears the screech of metal against metal, and heavy footsteps. A big metal maze for him to run around in.

"Krueger!" David yells into the expanse of red and black, taking a few steps in the direction of the noise, "Where the fuck are you? To pussy to get into a real fight?"

The grinding metal stops along with the footsteps. David grins, looks like he struck a bit of a nerve. He strides forward and rounds the corner of a hall, at the end Freddy stands. A black shadow framed in red light like some shitty horror movies.

"Ooh, what's your line gonna be mate? Come play with us?" David sneers, marching down the hall and cracking his knuckles for emphasis. The thrill of a good fight pumping adrenaline through his veins.

Immediately he feels as if he's moving underwater. Moving in a dream. But he's not afraid of these tricks, he wasn't alone. Freddy was. David focuses on the shadow, and wills himself forward. Each step feels lighter and lighter until he's running down the hall towards the monster at the end.

He sees the look of shock in the fuckers eyes moments before his fist connects with Freddy's jaw. David knew he had a mean right hook already, and he made sure to put all his weight behind this one.

Freddy flies back, hitting the floor with a clang and fleshy thud. David watches him crawl a few paces away before springing to his feet, blades striking against each other in a dull clang. Freddy eyes David cautiously, taking a slow step back, like a predator sizing up particularly feisty prey. He marches forward and swings again, this time Freddy ducks out of the way and his fist connects with the concrete wall. Pain blooms over his fists and David curses before turning in time to see Freddy retreat further down the hall into a side room. Immediately David gives chace, kicking the door open in a blind rage.

"Come on then you two bit fag stop runnin'. I'll rip you to pieces!" He yells into the room, only managing a few steps towards Freddy before a blinding pain erupts in his skull. He falls to his knees, clutching the right side of his head as his vision starts to blur and dull.

He can hear a grinding in his head, and felt something brush the bones of his skull from the inside. Just below his right ear he feels his skin rip, and he doesn't even realize he's screaming until he chokes on blood.

"Sorry you weren't Quentin's first fuck, David. You'd like him. Does exactly what he's told." Freddy jeers, voice creeping towards him. Words filling him with so much rage the pain seems to lesson slightly as he glared up at the man looming above him. The air around Freddy seems to shift like an aura of fear. He feels something growing in his gut and out of his head, pain radiating down his spine.

Then he feels a rib bend as a heavy boot knocks all the air from his lungs, and forces him down on his back. He can feel thorny vines sprouting from god knows where and entangling his limbs. Cutting into his flesh with their needle points. Freddy stands over him for a moment before dropping down heavily, knees pressing against his upper biceps to pin him down with all his weight.

"Look at you. All smoke and no fire..."

"Get off me." David growls weakly, the act of talking causes him to cough, and he spits blood at Freddy. The man grabs his face, nails digging into his flesh.

"Don't you fucking get it?" Freddy laughs leaning his face directly over David's now, scorched rancid breath brushing his cheeks.

"I'm your boyfriend now, David." A damp tongue scrapes up the side of David's face, causing him to gag in utter disgust.

A loud slam sounds from behind them, and Freddy sits up turning away from David. He watches as Quentin buries a switchblade deep in Freddy's throat. Hot black blood sprays out and coats Quentin's hands as it splashes across David's face. Quentin kicks the blade deeper, and Freddy rolls off of his chest. Spluttering and choking.

He feels Quentin's hands on his arm, tugging him away from Freddy. He scoots along the floor as fast as he can. Reaching up to rip the rose growing from behind his ear out and gasping in pain. His stomach churns and he leans away from Quentin to vomit up rose petals and thorns.

"Hey Quentin." He says, never happier to see the other man as he drops the rose to the floor.

"You know what to do?" Quentin asks, he sounded so afraid but David could hear the rage in him. He nods, and lets Quentin pull him to his feet.

He looks over to Freddy, watching in fascinated horror as he grips the switchblade and rips it out of his throat. Blood gushing from the severed artery and coating the floor is steaming black liquid. Freddy grips the blade in his left hand, and rushes toward them.

Acting on instinct, David grips Quentin's arm and shoves him back. He slid forward as he does it, blocking Quentin from the monster with his body as the switchblade slashes over his face. Pain rips through his left eye and he grunts, stumbling back and falling to the floor along with the clatter of the blade.  He tries to open his eye but it fills with blood.

"Wake up." He pants, pushing himself to stand. His eye pulses with pain, blackness rubbing against the edges of his vision. He knew what he had to do. He just needed to grab it.

He takes a step forward, shaking and uncertain. He reaches out for Freddy, fingers grazing the man's sweater as it pulls away and raises its claws threateningly. He missed the thing by a few inches.

Hot blood drips down his neck, and he feels a burst of energy. He wasn't going to let this be the end. Not yet. David lunges forward, and his hand closes around Freddy's slick bloody throat. Inky black blood coats his hand and runs down his arms in cold streams.

He opens his eyes, and the left one fills with blood. David shoves Freddy off of him with all his strength. The thing stumbles back, looking around in disorientation.

"David!" Quentin yells from behind him, "Move your ass!"

He sits up, scooting back a few inches before turning around on his hands and knees. He sees Quentin's outstretched hand. David reaches for it, knowing damn well its his fucking lifeline.

His hand wraps around Quentin's, and he's pulled forward out of the circle. An electric jolt runs through his body, and he gasps. Stumbling slightly and almost falling off the stage. He turns to see Quentin desperately dumping more salt on the circle before standing up. He was only an inch away from the barrier.

Freddy looks around at the salt circle and candles taking in the church around them, then it laughs. Every breath David takes sets his lungs on fire, cracked ribs grinding in pain. Fear finally overtakes his ego, and David drops to his knees. He wasn't in a dream, he wasn't in control.

"Really Quentin? This is your plan? Worse than last time." Freddy snears as he saunters forward to Quentin.

In the wavering candlelight, in the face of death, Quentin stands firm. His hands shake slightly, one holding the switchblade and the other clutching the chain of his cross. Freddy stops at the edge of the circle, distorted smirk on his face.

David tries to will himself to move. To join Quentin, to at least die on his feet. But his head throbs, his arms and legs burn with hundreds of tiny cuts, and every breath is hell. Blood drips down his face, and Freddy raises a hand. He can't move. He can't help him anymore.

Freddy lunges at Quentin, and falls back before he can touch him. A look of confusion passes over its face, and he reaches out slower now. Resting his gloved palm on thin air.

"Holy shit." David whispers in utter disbelief.

Quentin turns his back to Freddy, a massive grin on his face, "Get the book."

David nods, and pushes himself painfully to his feet. He looks around and sees the book sitting open near Quentin's bag. He picks it up and returns the others side, opening the book to the right page and holding it in front of him. David leans close and takes Quentin's hand with his free one, entwining their fingers with the cross gripped between them.

Freddy glares at them from his cage, having backed away to the middle. He was skulking around like a wild animal.

"Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in Armageddon. Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil..." Quentin begins, as he speaks the candles flare up. Flames reaching nearly six feet high. Freddy stands still, watching the two with a look of animosity.

"...by the power of God, bind the forces of Death and Hell, the seed of Satan, the false hierarchy of Antichrist and all evil spirits who wander through the world for the ruin of souls. And remand them to the Court of the Sacred Fire for their Final Judgment..." Quentin continues, voice growing stronger and steady. The cross between them grows warmer, and a light starts emanating from Freddy. Light creeping through his veins.

David closes his eyes, the light of the candles and holy glow stinging his one good eye. As he does, Freddy starts screaming profanities, no doubt rushing up as close as he could to them. Desperately trying to drown out Quentin's words. David can feel the heat emanating from the circle, and the pain in his ribs fades.

"..In the name of the Father, the Son, the Holy Spirit and the Mother, Amen." Quentin finishes, his words echoing through the empty church.

The white light burns even through his eyelids, and Freddy screams one last time before silence falls.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading as always, and if u got anything to show me my tumblr is shorknados bcs someone is hoarding shorknado. Anything will be linked in the final chapter for everyone's viewing pleasure


	8. We're Gonna Live Forever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic takes place in 2012 and i will not let you forget it. And sorry this ones kinda short, i didn't wamt last chapter to drag on too much but its Enough

David opens his eyes to pitch black. The candles had gone out. He can feel Quentin next to him, shaking and alive. The book falls to the floor with a muffled thump, and Quentin squeezes his hand.

"It's over, right?" Quentin's voice is weak and tired.

David takes a breath, it doesn't hurt anymore. His head doesn't throb, but he can still feel the sting on his arms and the pulse in his left eye.

"I...think the worst of it is." David replies, "I fucking hope it is."

Quentin laughs and releases his hand. A second of shuffling passes before Quentin strikes a match, lighting up the area between them in a dull yellow glow. David digs around in his pocket and pulls out his phone, turning the flashlight on and pointing it at the circle.

The candles had burned down to stumps, and the salt had turned completely black. He couldn't see any of the herbs they had set up, he hopes that's good. And in the middle of the circle was a pile of ashes. Not even the clawed glove or a scrap of cloth remained.

"We didn't bring a broom." Quentin says thoughtfully.

"Y'know, we should have thought about that."

After a bit of looking Quentin manages to find a maintenance closet with a small broom and dust pan. Together they sweep Freddy, the salt, and candle stubs into the bin bag. Quentin shoves the hat in before tying it up tightly and turning to him.

"David, your face looks like shit."

"Aww, you're flatterin' me." David teases, but knows damn well Quentin was right. His face  _ feels _ like shit.

"Let's get to the car, dad has a first aid kit in there."

David nods, and they jump down from the alter heading to the doors. He looks at his watch and is surprised to see that it was almost four in the morning. He had been in the dream for almost two hours, even though it only felt like a few minutes.

Quentin opens the door and David watches him peek out, the coast is clear and the two leave the church. Locking the door before closing it.

"Think they'll notice we were here?" Quentin asks, taking the steps down two at a time. He was holding the bag as far away from his body as he could.

David makes his way down the steps slower, trying to get used to a lack of depth perception, "Maybe? We didn't nick anything so we would only get in trouble for breaking and entering..."

Quentin nods, and pauses at the bottom to wait for him to catch up. He stumbles slightly on the last step, and Quentin lays a steadying hand on his shoulder. David smirks at him and straightens up, not wanting to show just how shit he felt.

"Don't look at me like a stray puppy. I'm fine."

Quentin turns his eyes downward, "Sorry, sorry. You just uh...look really bad."

"Aww, Quen stop with that. Anymore compliments and I just might think you fancy me." David teases, attempting to wink but it turns out more like an exaggerated blink. Quentin rolls his eyes, and wraps his hand gently over David's upper bicep. He tugs him along the few blocks to the car and David doesn't complain. He appreciates the silent help more than Quentin will know.

They get to the car with only a few odd glances from early pedestrians. Quentin opens the back door, tossing Freddy in the back and rooting around for a first aid kit. David sits in the passenger side, letting his legs dangle out of the car. The adrenaline had long worn off and every part of his body felt sore. He didn't feel as tired though, the two hour nap was surprisingly refreshing.

David's eyes shoot open when Quentin's hand rests on his shoulder. He hadn't even noticed he closed them. Quentin smiles apologetically and sets the small kit on his lap.

"I don't have enough for you arms and legs, but I can get your eye."

David nods, and leans forward a bit, letting his left eye close as Quentin brings up a disinfectant pad. It stings like a real bitch, but Quentin is careful to not let any of the alcohol get in his eye.

"Can you still see out of it?" Quentin asks. David opens his eyes to look at him. He was a bit blurry, probably due to the blood he had gotten in it. Otherwise he could see fine.

"Yeah, got a nice sight too."

Quentin tapes a gauze pad over it and starts wrapping a roll of bandages over his head. Tying it off firmly before closing the medkit and throwing it in the backseat. David swings his legs into the car and leans back in his seat. Quentin rounds the car and gets in the deicers seat.

"Think it'll scar?" David wonders out loud.

"Normally it wouldn't, but Freddy has a tendency to leave scars." He sees Quentin turn out of the corner of his eye, "You probably have your own grey streak too."

"I thought that was some quirky emo thing you did." David says as he flips down the visor and frowns at his reflection. His face looking like a scratching post aside, he couldn't find any new additions to his hair.

"Wish it was my own choice, my dad threw a huge fit about it." Quentin starts the car and pulls out of the lot, "Where should we bury this bag?"

David closes the visor and leans back, his hair was too short to find anything, "We can go to the Saddleworth Moors. No ones out there, lots a land, doubt anyone will question us digging a hole."

"How far away is it?"

David thinks for a moment, "'Bout forty-five minutes away?"

Quentin nods, "It's a Saturday, dad will be pissed but he won't miss work when he finds out I took the car. Point the way."

He directs Quentin onto the right road. Thankfully the Moors were accessible on main roads, so he remembered the way well.

"Stop at a petrol station up ahead, I could use a drink."

"God me too."

Quentin pulls into the mostly empty station and follows David as he hunts down a six pack of beers. He waits for Quentin to grab whatever he wanted before he sets the case on the till and the cashier raises his eyebrows

"Kicked outta the pub?" He asks, ringing up the beer and Quentin's drinks. David passes him his ID, and Quentin holds up his passport.

"You should see the other guy." David says with a grin. Quentin snorts and takes slushy and redbull back out to the car as David pays and follows him out.

He sets the beer on the floor of the car and watches with vague interest as Quentin upends his redbull into the blue slushie with a manic look in his eyes.

"Am I watching an American tradition or are you just disgusting?" David asks and Quentin stirs the drink into the blue ice and takes a sip.

"I'm disgusting." Quentin says, taking a drink of the concoction. He holds it out to him, "Want some?"

David takes a tentative drink and wonders how Quentin hasn't died of some sort of heart condition due to his sugar and caffeine addiction.

"Taste like frozen shit."

Quentin laughs and pulls out of the gas station, "You only say that because all you drink is tea and alcohol."

"I drink plenty of water." David shoots back, "I haven't seen you drink anything that wasn't filled with caffeine."

Quentin slurps his drink obnoxiously loud in reply before turning on the radio, unsurprisingly Call Me Maybe was playing.

"Change the station."

There's a small pause as Quentin's hand hovers over the change button before moving to the volume and cranking it up. David groans and sinks back in his seat.

"This song fucking sucks, turn it off!"

David reaches for the radio only to get his hand forcefully swatted away. The cuts on it burn and he hisses in pain.

"I pick the music."

"Oh really? Says who?" David has to yell over the chorus to be heard.

"I'm driving."

"That's a shitty American tradition now change the station!"

Instead Quentin starts yelling along, pointed ignoring David as he curses him out and tries for the dial again only to be shooed away. The car swerves a bit, and David decides that listening to this was only slightly above dying in a car crash after defeating a demon.

"I cannot fucking stand you." David growls in defeat. Quentin just rolls his window down and grins into the cool air.

It was a beautiful sight.

\--

"Why does your dad keep a shovel in his car?" David asks as he watches Quentin pull the compact tool for the back and slams the trunk.

David squints around the grassy plains, wondering which way they should go to dig their hole.

"Snows a lot in Ohio. Probably just a habit to keep one around." Quentin comments, the car beeping as he locks it.

He couldn't say he wasn't grateful, having only just remembered the lack of a shovel when Quentin pulled into the car park. He tucks the six pack under his arm and starts off in the direction of the reservoir. Figuring they should try to get a decent way from the more populated areas before burying the bag. It was half past five and the night was slowly dispersing into daylight. The car ride had been long and David really wasn't looking forward to an equally long trip back. He felt even worse for Quentin who had to explain to his dad what the fuck they had done.

"This place is creepy." Quentin comments as they start making their way off the beaten path and into the rocky fields.

"I think it's pretty lookin'." David comments, examining the barren landscape, "You're just seein' it in the wrong light."

Quentin stumbles over a rock and curses, bumping into David before regaining his balance, "Shit sorry."

David glances over at Quentin, happy to find he was holding the bag and shovel in one hand. He takes the opportunity to grab Quentin's free hand under the guise of helping him navigate the terrain. Quentin squeezes his hand and David holds back a smile.

"....I guess it's not too bad." Quentin admits.

They walk in silence for a few minutes. Navigation becoming easier as the sky lightens. Eventually they come to a the start of a hill, large rocks scattered around the bottom in haphazard patterns. Quentin drops the bag of ashes under a large rock and looks at the ground.

"This is as good a spot as any. Feels right." Quentin says as he buries the shovel in the dirt.

"You want me to do that?" David offers feeling bad for standing around.

"Nah. I gotta do it." He dumps the collection of dirt off to the side and looks up at David, "Hate to make a blind man dig."

"I ain't blind yet." David kicks a few stones and Quentin before taking a seat next to the bag in the shade of a large boulder. He leans against and watches the sun lick at the sky just past Quentin's shoulders as man continues digging.

There was probably some sort of deep symbolism to this,burying this monster as the sun burns away sleep. Shit like that. It had all gone so fast it felt unreal, but the cuts on his skin were real. The rocks beneath him were real. The wind and sky and Quentin and Freddy it was all real.

David cracks a lukewarm beer and takes a sip watching Quentin tie his jacket around his waist as it gets warmer. He can't help but smile at the fact that Quentin was still in the shirt he got him. Although the sight of a rose made his stomach churn a little bit.

He wasn't afraid of Freddy, not like Quentin was. Maybe that had helped him in the dream. It's not like he was ever going to beat the fucker in a fight, not when Freddy was holding all the cards. But he thinks he gave the thing a real run for his money back there. His eyes drift over to the plastic bag sitting demurely next to him.

What horrors made a man like that? No person is born evil, right? He guesses it doesn't really matter all that much in the end, Freddy shouldn't be coming back again. David downs his beer and cracks another one, turning his gaze back to the growing hole at Quentin's feet then to the mans face. It was set in a frown of determination. In the light David can make out three small scratches across the left side of Quentin's face, just below his eyes. He must have gotten them when he stabbed Freddy or during the exorcism. He could already imagine the thin white scars they would leave.

"Think I'm gonna have his initials scarred into my chest forever?" David asks as he thoughtfully shakes his beer.

"Gross. You would have to wear a shirt around me at all times."

"I can cover 'em with a tattoo you baby."

"What would you even get?"

David drains his beer and sets it aside, frowning in thought, "More flowers I guess. Maybe another lion?"

"Boring. Get a bird or something. Like a crow."

"I ain't no fuckin' emo."

Quentin pauses his digging to flip him off. The hole was now looking to be three feet deep already.

"I'll get your name in big letters over it." David threatens.

"Fuck you."

He snickers and contemplates another beer. If the initials scar he would have to get them hidden as soon as possible. He didn't want that creeps weird brand on him forever, and he liked being shirtless around Quentin. Guy was an easily flustered open book.

"I can't believe you called Freddy a fag." Quentin says offhandedly.

"Well he is one innit?"

Quentin snorts and steps back from the hole, "Well, you're not wrong in the British sense."

David rolls his eyes and gets to his feet as Quentin picks up the bag if ashes and they look into the hole.

"Should we...bury the bag too?" Quentin asks.

David wonders if that counts as sacrilegious and shrugs, "I guess...we don't have to."

He watches Quentin kneel down and untie the bag, dumping the mixture of ashes and salt into the hole along with the hat. He sets the bag aside and stands. David looks at the heap in the hole and feels a sense of relief wash over him.

"Oh I uh, grabbed this on the way put," Quentin says, and David watches him pull a small bottle from his pocket.

"What's that?"

"Holy water. There was some at the door, I didn't steal it." Quentin opens the bottle and sprinkles the entire thing into the hole before dropping them empty container into the bin bag. A breeze blows past them, and David shivers as a cloud blocks the sun for a moment.

"Do we pray?" David asks uncertainty. He had never really been to a funeral.

"Usually the priest does but...I guess we can just think one?"

David nods and bows his head, silently repeating a hail Mary. The only real prayer he knows. Quentin stands silent beside him for a long time, before crouching down and tossing a handful of dirt onto the ashes.

"Burn in hell." Quentin says solemnly.

David snorts, and Quentin grabs the shovel. Filling the hole in record time as David shoves the rest of the beer cans in the now empty bag. He watches Quentin pack the earth down before covering the grave in a few rocks. Making it look almost natural, if he didn't know what was hiding under the soil. He watches Quentin turn and sit heavily under the rocky outcropping. He pats the spot next to him, and David sits down obediently. Quentin rests his head on David's shoulder, and he watches the others dark ringed eyes slide closes. In seconds he knew Quentin was asleep.

David wraps an arm gently around him and pulls him close, leaning against the rock at his back. Quentin deserved a rest, he deserved to escape from this nightmare once and for all.  David listens intently to Quentin's soft breaths as the sun rises higher and higher. Burning away the morning mist a coolness, burning away any bad dreams a night terrors. David thinks about the last few hours, and how he was going to move on.

Quentin sleeps until the sun reaches their shady respite, he stirs only when the light hits his eyes. Blinking blearly and stretching out. David watches him yawn and stand, joints popping loudly in protest. He gets to his feet too. Watching Quentin silently examin Freddy's final resting place after sleeping, if only for an hour.

Quentin turns; the sun lights up his silhouette, and David finds himself falling in love as he approaches. Quentin's arm loops around David's neck and the other rests on the back of his head. Pulling him down a few inches until he was face to face with Quentin. He smells like sweat, soil, and sugar.

Quentin's lips press against his, tentatively at first but as David wraps his arms around the others waist he presses forward. David kisses back, closing his eyes and enjoying the sweetness of Quentin's lips. Knowing damn well he tasted like shitty beer. David pulls away first, looking down at Quentin's red face. He notices Quentin's tongue is still stained blue from the slushie and grins.

"Thank you." Quentin whispers.

"Anytime mate." David replies equally as quiet. He means every word.

Quentin's phone starts ringing from his pocket, and the man frowns. Pulling it out while keeping an arm around his neck, Quentin groans at the caller ID before swiping up to answer.

"Hey dad." Quentin mumbles, resting his head on David's shoulder in resignation.

David holds in a laugh, listening to Mr. Smith's concerned voice over the phone as Quentin made up some terrible lie about leaving his medication in the car and having mood swings for the past day. His dad seems to buy the objectively terrible lie and asks him to get home soon and safe. David runs a comforting hand over Quentin's back when the other hangs up.

"I'm in so much trouble." Quentin groans.

"Well let's get back home then. You deal with your dad and we can meet up again at Cotton."

David can feel Quentin smile against his chest, "Like nothing ever happened?"

He shrugs, "Like only the worst thing ever happened, but we made it out fine and dandy. Good enough for a pub crawl tomorrow, right?"

Quentin pulls away from David, soft smile gracing his features, "Or tomorrow I can take you out on a real date. If you want."

David grins and picks up the bin bag and shovel, "Course I want to. But first you need to get some more sleep love, it won't kill ya'."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading guys! I dunno if ill add an epilouge to this, probably not tbh i like having it open and cute like this bcs im GAY. Nightmare is my fave horror series since i was a Young Child and freddy is my fave slasher behind dummy thicc legends michael and jason. I really dont like the remake so this is my fuck you to the directors.

**Author's Note:**

> Freddy kreuger pussy indulgence


End file.
